


Defiance and Pride

by Lexi_Seigneur



Category: The Strain (TV), The Strain Trilogy - Guillermo del Toro & Chuck Hogan
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mostly Mature but with some Explicit here and there, Slow Burn, part 1 is a season 4 replacement, part 2 is a new story arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2020-01-12 03:36:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 151,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18438218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexi_Seigneur/pseuds/Lexi_Seigneur
Summary: The Master has ushered in the fall of humankind. Quinlan flees the army of Strigoi after him. He is starving. Eventually, his enemy will win their millennia-long war by attrition.In the midday sun, on top of a hill, he rests. Unbeknownst to him, he has just found a new ally.





	1. The man on the hill

**Author's Note:**

> **Part 1: For you are with me**  
>  Chapter 1 to 30.
> 
> **Part 2: Born of a dark being**  
>  Chapter 31 to ?  
> 
> 
> If you see typos or other mistakes, please let me know ;)

 

The perimeter alarm blared and the woman froze, for she knew death was on her doorstep. Three monitors displayed the feed of a dozen cameras and on one of them, a group of fifty Strigoi darted through trees. Low stances, white bald heads and muscle spasms were evident even on the low resolution afforded by the cameras. The woman pressed a red button by her keyboard and the lights of the bunker died down with a crack. Above her, the hum of the ventilation system grew tired and stopped. Only the bluish glow of the screens remained.

The beatings of her heart were so intense, they had become painful. Still, she hoped. In the forever clouded sky, the midday sun was piercing through. It would protect her for the time being as both entrances leading to her underground haven were exposed to the toxic light. How had they found her? Why would they even care about a single human being? Certainly, this army was more than what was needed to put an end to her existence.

Running ahead of the horde, a lone figure was getting closer. One small Strigoi caught up to it and was swiftly beheaded. Her jaw dropped open. _This_ was their target, not her. Considering how easily the hooded man had dispatched the creature, their numbers suddenly appeared justified. Stepping out of the darkness and into the sunlight, he put his sword back in its sheath. The man stood in the clearing, on top of a small hill surrounded by thick woods. Rushing in the shadows, the Strigoi surrounded him. In less than one hour the ochre light would return, and the man would die. Torn to pieces by this nightmarish army. This prospect did not bother the fighter. Arms wide, he taunted the creatures and the woman wished she could hear what he was telling them.

She could help him. The charitable part of her wanted to save this fellow human. The part of her not yet tired of living wanted to stay safe in the compound and pretend that nothing outside existed. Sitting crossed legs on the dying grass, the hooded figure took the time to extract sunglasses from his pocket. If she departed now, she would be able to make it. It would be so very easy.

The northern entrance appeared on the same screen as the man, hidden by a lone bush. By the light of the monitors, she dressed. A balaclava, goggles and a leather collar with metal spikes. When no skin was left uncovered she grabbed her weapons. A Beretta went to the holster on her hip and two rifles hung by their straps on her shoulders. Loose bullets tinkled gently in one pocket and a full box weighed down another.

The last thing she reached for was a small pill shining by the red button. She placed it in a pocket near her heart. Death might come, but it would not be forced upon her. Sweat was already drenching her armpits and the small of her back. The woman hesitated as she unlocked the bulkhead which would lead her to the hill. Could she die? Was she ready? Yes. At least she would die fighting and not driven insane by solitude.

Her headlamp provided only modest illumination, but she would have been able to find her way in complete darkness. She had always inspected this tunnel and other key facilities obsessively. The concrete tunnel ran for several kilometers, narrow and reeking of mold.

Her hands shook violently when she grabbed the bars of the ladder at the end of the underground corridor. The small body was struggling to accept its fate even as her mind was set. She closed her eyes, shoved that fear down mercilessly and breathed. The dark room in her head swallowed the anguish and her face hardened. She climbed up without hesitation. Between the tunnel and the topside entrance was a small space with a single table and modest surveillance equipment. On a map of the immediate surroundings, red crosses marked the placements of remote-controlled explosives. Those had been buried for exactly this type of situation.

Some of the Strigoi stood close enough to the mines. The black detonator was not yet armed, and she removed the plastic covering the switch. When she flipped it, a red led turned on at the top of the hand-sized box. Would they even still work? Eyes fixated on the screen, she detonated the first charge. Vibrations shook the table and she smiled viciously. Charred and dismembered bodies laid amongst the trees.

Instead of getting deeper in the forest they shifted positions to continue surrounding the man. He was looking around madly in a desperate attempt to understand what had happened. At some point, she could swear he was staring into the closest camera. Every time enough Strigoi approached the location of a mine she pressed another button. The sky was darkening, and once she was certain no explosives could be used effectively she put the detonator on the table. She climbed up the second ladder.

The trap door quietly opened thanks to her care and the woman crawled out under the thick bush. More exposed than she had been in a year, she lied down, took aim with one of the rifles and shot. It was like kicking a hornet's nest. They danced wildly between the trees. But their desire to keep their prey in sight made them easy targets. One attempted to step out of the shadow cover and retreated with a screech. Its skin smoked and sizzled. The hooded man ran to her position, but she did not have time for introductions. She tossed the second rifle as well as the last intact box of bullets out of the bush. He grabbed them, but that was all the attention she could afford to give him. The bangs of gunshots resonated in her chest. Both his and hers.

Ochre light descended upon them like a death sentence. A dozen Strigoi were still alive, and they barreled toward them. Dropping the rifle, she got on a knee and discharged her handgun. It was more practical in close range. Not that it would make much of a difference. Only one of the creatures perished from her shooting before another got into the “danger zone.” Meaning, it was close enough for its stinger to reach her.

Desperate, she adjusted her aim but its mouth was already opening. It was too late. The woman held her breath and stared at her incoming demise. There was a splatter of white blood then eerie silence. The man stood where the Strigoi had collapsed and wiped his sword on the tattered clothes of the creature. Had he killed all the others? Just as she thought that his face seemed strange, a swarm of bullets hit him in the back.

The woman kicked the trap door open as the man plunged in the nominal shelter of the bush. Without a single word exchanged, they both plunged into the darkness below. Quickly, she locked the latch and jumped the two meters instead of climbing down. She glanced at the hooded figure standing. Relief washed over her and she immediately concluded that he was wearing a bulletproof jacket. Still, they had little time.

The monitors showed more Strigoi coming, including armed ones.  But she did not care. This entrance would have to be sacrificed. The detonator went into her pocket, and she had a slight pinching of the heart as she noticed the absence of both rifles. Too bad. She opened the other door leading to the tunnel and the man rushed down, unprompted. Good, he was quick on the uptake.

They ran down the humid tunnel and by the time they reached the halfway bulkhead, the woman felt like they might make it alive and well. At least she would. She had no idea how many bullets he had taken and how injured he truly was. Once their adrenaline levels died down, he might very well go into shock and kick the bucket.

She closed the armed door, smiled under her hood and pressed _all_ the remaining buttons. Vibrations shook dust from the low ceiling. The Strigoi on that hill were likely in small pieces. They continued down the tunnel in the relative silence of her pounding heart. She broke one of her rules and undid her spiked collar before locking the last bulkhead behind them.

The woman tossed it on the floor as well as the goggles and the balaclava. Then she rushed to the monitors. The northern entrance had collapsed and the few Strigoi remaining were slowly leaving. Despite herself, she laughed then pressed the red button which reactivated all the dormant systems. Giddy from this obvious victory she turned toward her guest. He had lowered his hood and removed his glasses.

Faster than she had ever moved before, she took out her Beretta and aimed directly at his head. He was one of them. Hairless skin, pallor and throat markings were all very obvious under the neon lights. With her other hand, she took the pill out of her breast pocket. The little bundle of death felt heavy in her fist. She would die on her own terms. A million thoughts rushed through her head. Maybe he disguised himself to pass as human…but why stop this other Strigoi from killing her then…Why would they want to kill him if he was one of them? Was that a bone on his sword? Her Cartesian mind started analyzing all those matters.

 

* * *

 

The small woman unlocked the bulkhead almost quietly. The mechanism had recently been greased. Quinlan grimaced as one of the bullets scratched at his shoulder bone. Warm blood dripped lazily against his back and on the concrete floor. He was starving, and this would make it worse. The room they entered was remarkably large judging by the way their steps echoed.

With a sigh of relief, the human shed the mask covering her face. A long brown braid flowed down her back. Darkness enveloped them except for the glow of three monitors. One displayed the clearing they had just left and the crater the explosion had created. Strigoi bodies surrounded the scorched earth while the few still alive attempted to track a scent trail which did not exist. The woman had a mirthless laugh and slammed a large button next to the keyboard. Strong lights shot pain through his sensitive eyes. He regretted removing his sunglasses and hood. 

The Dhampir knew exactly how she would react to his appearance and remained stoic when she turned to face him. Loose strands of wavy hair framed a young face. Quinlan deemed her unremarkable except for the unusual pink on her cheeks. Malnutrition and lack of sunlight had not marked her face which intrigued him for a single second. With dexterity stemming from repetition, she had unholstered her sidearm and aimed at his face.

Fatigue coursed through him. _Every single time._ The weapon shook slightly. Her other hand fumbled with her breast pocket to retrieve a small object. Curiosity made him look, but she kept the object in her fist, invisible. A thin eyebrow shot up and she cocked her head. Her gaze went to the wormless blood pooling at his feet, at the markings on his face then at the swirls adorning his throat. The woman frowned in confusion.

“If you shoot me, I will kill you,” he promised.

It was only a half-truth. Quinlan would kill her regardless because he was starving and his throat burned fiercely with each knocking of her heart. She ignored his threat which annoyed him greatly.

“What are you? You are not one of them…They wanted to kill you...You didn’t burn in the sun,” she rambled on.

Foolishly, he found himself surprised at the sound of her voice. He had expected a high-pitch squeak and instead he listened to deep, rich and smooth intonations. The woman spoke as an American would but some of the inflections were strange. It mattered not. Quinlan gathered the last of his energy for a bolt of inhuman speed. She squinted and without warning, lowered the gun. _Interesting._ The Dhampir changed his mind and relaxed his muscles.

“Is this infectious?”

She pointed the gun toward the white blood.

“No.”

The muscles of her jaw tightened, and she mulled over that information. She met his gaze and held it.

“Sickbay is that way.”

A delicate chin pointed at a blue door behind her. Quinlan’s eyes widened slightly. Did she mean to help him? The Dhampir did not move. She sighed and put her gun back in its leather holster. Her right hand remained on the handle.

“You’re bleeding…please.”

The Dhampir stepped ahead of her and opened the door. The room was large, each wall covered with cabinets. There were a fridge and a sink, all chrome for easy clean-up. In the center of the room stood a single metal slab that he found quite sinister. Quinlan sat on the cold table after letting his coat fall to the floor. The sword he kept with him. Removing his sweater would be unnecessarily painful, and he did not wish to exert himself further. He might still change his mind and drink her. Strength would be needed to make it fast. The woman gathered equipment on a tray from various drawers as well as a small bottle from the fridge.

“Local anesthetics work on you, right?”

He glanced at the bottle of lidocaine. A doctor had once used that on him.

“It will but not for very long.”

The rubber gloves slid on her thin hands with great ease. Was she a physician?

“You’ll have to tell me when it stops working then.”

She selected the trauma sheers from the plater.

“Lie down, please.”

Quinlan glanced at the various instruments within her reach. Some were extremely sharp.

“I prefer to sit.”

The woman sighed in frustration.

“Well, I left my ladder in my other bunker.”

He despised the wittiness of the retort. Nevertheless, it was evident that she was too short to reach his shoulders. He complied reluctantly. The woman cut his clothes and pulled them away from his skin with caution. She grunted, wiped the blood away then counted the number of injuries.

“Do you feel any other wound beside your upper back?”

Quinlan focused but only the pain there was perceptible.

“No.”

She filled the syringe with the anesthetic. The injection burned but receded quickly. She plunged pliers into the farthest wound. Quinlan gripped the edges of the table. The drug was completely inadequate, but he remained quiet. He focused on breathing between clenched teeth. The stitching was quick and precise. Once again he wondered what kind of medical doctor she was. That human could be useful. After all, the previous doctor had been to an extent.

“I told you to let me know about the pain. You will only exhaust yourself if you play the hero.”

Quinlan frowned at the last comment. Was it a trait shared by all medical experts to be so very _irritating_?

“I do not feel the stitching but the bullet extraction is…painful,” he conceded.

She filled another, much longer syringe and this time started by also stabbing the inside of the wounds. Quinlan said nothing but it helped tremendously. She worked quietly and efficiently until she made her way to the last bullet hole.

“You did not answer my question…why did they try to kill you?”

The Dhampir considered his response carefully.

“Because their master wants me dead.”

She paused in the middle of a stitch.

“Who’s that master?”

“The vermin who controls them all and is responsible for the current state of the world.”

The woman’s face appeared in his field of vision.

“Why does this guy want you dead?”

“Because I will be the one who will destroy him.”

After finishing, she removed her gloves and tossed them on the tray.

“What happens if you kill him? Another would just take his place, no?”

“No. He is unique.”

Her mouth fell open.

“What happens if he dies?”

“The Strigoi perish with him. They are all bonded.”

_We are all bonded._ That thought would not cross his lips. She stared, her eyes widening as the meaning of his words reached her fully.

“This one dies and the nightmare ends?”

Her voice was cautious as if she imagined it was a cruel joke. Quinlan pondered his situation. If this small woman had survived here through the Fall then the place was decently secure. In addition, she possessed some medical knowledge and possibly the will to aid him.

“Yes. It all ends.”

Her face contracted. She fought tears away by shutting her eyes tightly.

“We need to talk then,” she said when she won the battle over the emotions.

“I cannot stay. I need to feed.”

The sound of her rushing blood was becoming more intense and he had made the final decision not to kill her. The woman’s mouth contorted in disgust and she took a step back.

“I guess you don’t mean beans.”

He shook his head. Was she going to run from him? No, she walked to a drawer, rummaged its contents and placed several objects on another tray.

“I’m not a big person but…If I give you some of my blood…will you tell me more?”

The claws of his stingers clinked together loudly and he forced them still. Thirst was tearing through his chest, throat and entire body. Her offer appeared as nothing less than a godsend. There was worry on her traits. His control had slipped and she had noticed. With immense effort, he rained himself in.

“I will,” he whispered.

The woman stripped her jacket to reveal a tank top on her petite silhouette. She tied a string on her bicep and dabbed alcohol on her forearm. The chemical stink burned his nostrils. She found an appropriate vein but it kept rolling away from the needle tip.

“Can you try? I’ve never done that on myself.”

Since needles had been invented, he had become proficient in their use. However, he had never had to stab anyone with them while that close to starvation. His body was painfully tense when he took the small instrument. The woman inhaled sharply when his fingers closed under the knot. He focused, and the blood became apparent under the skin. The needle pierced through smoothly and the flexible tube filled red. Fortunately, there was very little smell. He secured it with medical tape.

“Do you have a name?” she asked and leaned against the slab.

“You may call me Quinlan.”

She smiled and quickly raised a hand to hide it. For the first time since she had removed her hood, he paid attention to her appearance. Her eyes were large and a dull hazel color. Her nose small and straight. A narrow jaw made her lips too full for her face. Quinlan’s general impression was that she appeared frail. He missed the sturdiness of some of his previous associates.

“My name amuses you?”

“No!” she replied instantly. “No…it was just unexpected.”

“What is yours?”

“Ale…just call me Lexi.”

He glanced at the bag and regretted it as the thirst intensified. Quinlan concentrated on the hazel eyes instead.

“What are you? A cousin species of the Strigoi?” she asked.

Lexi shook her head and the braid dangled against her back.

“That’s not something I ever expected to ask anyone…” she added.  
“I am Dhampir. Not another species…just a half-breed.”

Dark brows shot up and she examined the matter.

“How were you only half-turned?”

Humans were always curious about his nature. After thousands of years, it had become monotonous.

“I was not turned, I was born Dhampir.”

“How?”

“I was conceived by two humans, but my mother became infected while pregnant.”

Her gaze became distant, lost in memories.

“They ate everyone but not my friend…she was pregnant. They just…I always wondered why.”

She looked away and remained quiet for a moment. Quinlan could only imagine what Strigoi would do to avoid the birth of another Invictus. Knowing them, they would have torn her apart and made very sure she and her baby were properly dead.

“I don’t even know what to ask you so…whatever you find relevant,” she said.

Her eyes focused back on him. The Dhampir spoke in a low voice as to avoid further irritating his throat. He started by explaining their attempt at locking the Master away and how it had failed. Then he told her of his year-long quest for an atomic warhead which he now knew no longer existed. The Master had cleared them all long before he could find any. The last weeks he had been chased relentlessly, unable to rest, feed or in any way collect himself long enough to devise another plan. Her lips had turned clearer, and he looked carefully at the full bag.

“It would be prudent to remove that needle.”

 Her heartbeat was distinctly quicker. They had waited too long. He took the bag as soon as she pulled the needle from her skin. Quinlan removed the tube poking out of it. The warm liquid poured down his parched throat like water on fire. It tasted full of the countless fragrances of healthy blood. The Dhampir sighed in delicious satisfaction. The thirst abated but lingered as the last drop touched his tongue. The pleasure drove a low purr out of the now lubricated throat. Having just finished placing a band-aid on her skin, the woman licked her dry lips. Blood loss would make her thirsty.

“You should not sta…”

But he was too late and as soon as she stood erect her eyes rolled back and she crumbled. Quinlan caught her before her head could slam on the concrete. The body was too light which confirmed his first assessment: frail. Quinlan deposited her on the slab and rushed to the tap to fill a glass of cold water.

“Oh…” she whispered and grabbed her head.

“Move slowly to let your body adjust to the blood loss. Drinking will help.”

She pressed a fist to her forehead and nodded. When she managed to sit, he gave her the glass and waited until she finished then took it back and filled it again.

“Let’s go to another room. I don’t warm this one and I’m freezing,” she said.

Quinlan had not noticed but then again, his high metabolism spared him from those concerns. He accepted and waited patiently for her to stand and direct him to the other side of the compound. The sword remained on the slab, unneeded. Behind the black door, the air was distinctly warmer. This was clearly where she slept.

A simple double bed frame stood at the farthest corner from the door and in between was a large table covered in paper, pencils, and paints. No doubt where she had created the myriad of illustrations covering the walls. Plants, animals, and landscapes were plastered everywhere. Quinlan was very surprised to see a piano by the entrance, even if it was just electrical. Near the foot of the bed, a door led to a small bathroom. In another corner, stood a large metal wardrobe.

Lexi deposited the glass of water on the table and made her way gingerly to the wardrobe. Her gait was wobbly. She gave him an appreciative look and searched through the various pieces of clothing. One seemed to please her, and she tossed it in his direction. He caught the dark long sleeve cotton shirt and put it on. It smelled clean but felt slightly too tight around his large chest. This would be several sizes too large for her small frame, and he inhaled deeply. No…the only human scent was hers. She was alone. But still, he doubted because he always did when chance turned his way.

“Who does this belong to?”

“It’s mine.”

She replied and sat at the table with a small notebook and a pencil. Lexi kicked a stool in his direction, but Quinlan did not move. He stared, hoping to intimidate her into backing out of a possible lie.

“I like loose clothing when I sleep, ok?”

Then under her breath low enough for a human to miss, she whispered “ungrateful twat”. Quinlan sneered at the insult but sat. For the next hour, she took careful notes while he recounted the important events following the landing of that plane and the invasion of New York. On several occasions, she asked him to clarify a point while she flipped to previous pages to correct a misunderstanding or add details. She rubbed her face and neck more and more often. Her eyelids sometimes drifted shut for a second too long.

“You need to sleep,” said Quinlan eventually.

The woman nodded and closed the notebook.

“There is another bed in the next room if you want.”

She stood and glanced at him.

“Please don’t use the elevator to go up as long as the Strigoi are around. Check the monitors first.”

Quinlan grunted in agreement as this was a reasonable request. He took his leave and started exploring. There was the center of operations, a room big enough to fit several small houses with labeled doors on each wall. Her bedroom had once been a mess hall. Next to it was still a kitchen. He was extremely surprised to find it stocked with fresh fruits and vegetables. That explained her apparent health. Most other rooms served as storage or were simply unused. A poorly equipped gym was obviously utilized often. On the farthest wall from the elevator, he found bullet holes within a target drawn in sharpie. Resourceful, the human had taken advantage of the length of the compound to practice shooting.

The elevator led to the surface but also to a lower level which he decided to explore as well. It was an identical space as the one above but with regular pillars instead of rooms. The luminosity there was disagreeable because plants needed the full range of the light spectrum. This was how she had grown all this food. Plastic barrels containing a wide variety of plants filled the entire space. Some were even small fruit trees. The air was heavy with the scent of wet dirt and sap.

Back in the control room, Quinlan stood in front of the monitors and the detailed map of the compound and the surrounding area. He committed them to memory then turned his attention toward a lone laptop displaying a list of dates. He cliqued on a file dated six months prior. The smooth voice of the woman came through the small speakers. 

“I finished with all the soil downstairs...it took forever. It will also take forever for the first plants to produce anything...”

There were a few moments of static then the voice starting again.

“The seeds look good but I am not gonna wait around for a stupid tree to grow...on a road nearby all the houses are empty but I'm sure I've seen some potted trees...”

He cliqued randomly in the list of dates. 

“... truck... how can they even drive? It makes no sense. If they turn me, will I suddenly be able to drive an eighteen-wheeler? Shit...I forgot to soak beans yesterday...lentils will do...Jules! It's not cooked!...you moron...”

The voice was interrupted by a loud alarm which had also been recorded. He paused the playback and silence fell on the compound. The bedroom door slammed open and the woman stood there, confused with a gun in one hand.

“What are you doing?”

Quinlan faced her without an ounce of remorse. Part of him felt vindicated and convinced she had lied to him earlier.

“Who is Jules?”

She blushed and walked to the desk. With unnecessary violence, Lexi pulled a drawer open and extracted a large binder full of loose pages. She tossed it in front of him and the paper sheets spilled. They were sketches and drawings of a large tabby cat. Some had contexts placing the pet in her bedroom or the kitchen. Most had tape on their corners as if they had once adorned the walls of her bedroom.

“I see,” he simply said and turned to her.

Quinlan did not feel foolish or guilty, his doubts had been perfectly reasonable and justified.

“She died a month ago.” 

Her nostrils flared from righteous anger and her eyes turned glassy. She closed them then exhaled deeply. Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“I understand you don't get to survive as _you_ did by being careless about who you associate with...I get that. But...There is nothing of interest on those recordings. At best you'll learn about gardening…”

She grabbed the mouse and opened another folder with the same list of dates. 

“Knock yourself out. But at least stick to the transcripts so you don't wake me up.” 

She walked to her room again and added, “If you have questions, just ask. I literally have  no reason to lie to you.”

“Good night,” said Quinlan as she closed the door.

He understood her rage at his intrusion, however from such a tiny human, it felt out of place. The light footsteps headed away, then there was the rushing of fabric on fabric. Lexi tossed and turned in her bed, and it became obvious that she would not fall asleep anytime soon. Allowing himself to give in to the exhaustion of the past months, he retrieved his possessions from sickbay and went to lie down on the bed in the vacant room.

* * *


	2. Quinlan's hunt

 

Lexi did not sleep a single moment. Fear was not conducive to proper rest. Lightheaded and weak, she got out of bed as her alarm clock displayed an ungodly early time. It would still be dark outside at this house. Where was Quinlan? The door of the free room stood ajar, and she steered clear from it.

This man was terrifying. Riddled with bullets he still walked about. Very clearly, he also had been whipped. The scars crisscrossed his marbled skin, but she knew better than to start interrogating him about them. Other matters had distracted her immediately after their discovery anyway. Lexi dry-heaved at the memory of his drinking blood. _Her_ blood. Enjoyment had completely transformed his face. _Ugh._

Light flashed several times before remaining constant when she flipped the switch in the infirmary. All she wanted was alleviating her malaise, but the chaos of this usually pristine space was bothering her. Order was efficiency, and efficiency was survival. Staggering but determined, she threw away all used instruments as well as cut clothing. With pure bleach, she disinfected all surfaces.

The bullets she placed in a glass bottle filled with water. The liquid turned milky from the blood. Here lied the proof that despite her fear, despite her disgust, this man was hope. For a task that desperate, on which the survival of her species depended, she needed someone who could survive such punishment.

Lexi did not plan on dying in this hole, alone and useless. If there was ever a cause worth joining, it would be this one. The woman sighed and took a saline pouch out of the fridge. Veins rolled annoyingly under the push of the needle. Hands were an inconvenient placement for an IV, but she had little choice. Then she perused for injectable vitamins and added their contents to the bag with a syringe. Iron sounded good and so did B12. The clear liquid turned pink.

Waiting for the mixture to enter her system, she turned the bullet bottle between her fingers. Even his blood was white. Such a strange creature. So very _civilized._ Heavy footsteps echoed in the control room. Lexi took all the bottles, vitamins and bullets and shoved them back in the fridge. She hooked the bag on the index finger of her unpierced hand and went to meet him.

Quinlan was fully dressed, coat, sword and _her_ shirt.

“I require a vehicle. Is this one in working order?”

His gloved finger pointed at the screen showing the feed from the topside entrance. By the doors leading to the elevator, an old truck was parked. Lexi tensed. Was this ungrateful monster really going to take her blood, her clothes and then her truck? Just like that, he was going to use her and leave? _Oh hell, no._

“Where are you going?” she asked and glanced at the drawer containing the car keys.

“I must retrieve weapons from a cache. Yesterday, I was hoping to gain enough distance from the horde to reach it.”

“I’m going with you.”

The Dhampir stared. His eyes landed on the IV drip fastened to her hand.

“You most certainly are not.”

Lexi’s nostrils flared in anger. Nausea was intense but she hid her discomfort. He would not drive away with _her_ only vehicle. She would make sure of that.

“That’s my truck and we are a package deal.”

Quinlan raised a prominent and hairless brow. Defiantly, she jutted her chin forward. _I’m joining the fight, even if it means fighting you first._

“Do not slow me down,” he said and turned away.

Lexi rushed to get dressed, took the keys from the desk and met him at the elevator. When they reached the surface, the sun had coated the countryside with its orange glow. She slumped on the passenger side and tossed the keys to the Dhampir. The IV bag she kept in her free hand against her shoulder. They departed and almost instantly, he sped up too fast for her comfort.

“Slow down! Jeez!”

The truck still flew down the dirt road. Each pothole made her jump several centimeters in the air.

“No. If you so desire, I can stop long enough for you to exit.”

Lexi felt the urge to punch him. With gritted teeth, she swallowed a reply. His expression barely changed but she could not help but think that he looked extremely smug. Fortunately, the ride lasted barely twenty minutes. They stopped at the edge of a field without any obvious characteristics. A few trees in the distance and patches of dying grass on the naked earth. Not even a fence or a traffic sign.

Without a word, the Dhampir got out, taking the keys with him. Lexi did not follow but stared as he made his way on the dry soil and crouched. When he stood back up, his hand was closed on a metal handle. A large metal trunk had been buried vertically and with a single hand, he tore it from the earth. The metal chest appeared just as weightless as he walked back. The truck shifted under the weight of this cargo. Exactly how strong was Quinlan? This was insane.

Lexi braced herself for the ride back. At least, nausea was subsiding as her circulatory system absorbed the saline solution. The bag was empty when they sped down a steady asphalt road. She removed the needle from her sore hand. A single drop of blood followed and rolled between her fingers. _Shit._

Lexi immediately covered it with her sleeve and glanced at Quinlan. The clear blue eyes were fixated on her. His expression was the same as the previous day: hungry. The woman cowered and reached for her gun. He detached his gaze and focused on the road ahead. The woman was unable to do the same. At that moment, he was the nearest danger.

“I would feel more relaxed if you could stop staring,” he said with a rattle.

Lexi only did so because his speaking made him appear more human than Strigoi. They drove in silence and in the distance, deer sprinted away. At that moment the woman wished she could flee that fast and jump that high. Tires screeched and the seatbelt tensed on her body. The flat nylon strap stopped her from flying through the windshield as the truck connected with one of the large animals.

Lexi could not breathe. Her chest was crushed by the violence of the impact. Desperate, she scrambled for the clasp and untied herself. The driver’s door was wide open and Quinlan was nowhere to be seen. Had he been propelled out? Clutching her contused clavicle, she stumbled out of the truck.

A dead deer lay ahead on the road. Just a few paces to the right, the Dhampir leaned above a still moving animal. As soon as it was immobile, Quinlan sprinted to the dead one. Sprinted was the wrong word. Lexi had just been able to see a blur. How fast was he? Although Lexi _knew_ he likely had a stinger, she still grimaced at seeing it projected at the animal.

Quinlan snarled in frustration. He took the back legs of the dead deer and lifted it as high as his arms could reach. The serpentine appendage contracted to absorb the blood. She understood immediately that Strigoi and apparently Quinlan, relied on the own heartbeats of their victims to drink. Gravity was only a subpar choice as it was slow. After a full minute, the Dhampir’s stinger retracted, and he tossed the animal off the road. The initial shock had subsided and left Lexi with growing furor. Her body _hurt_ because of him.

“You did it on purpose you goddamn MANIAC!”

The metal bumper was dented as well as the edge of the hood.

“It was necessary.”

Lexi snorted. What a load of crap.

“Not it fucking wasn’t! I just saw you move! You could have outrun them!”

The Dhampir was suddenly an arm’s length from her. A savage growl emerged from his chest.

“ARE YOU THREATENING ME?” she roared.

She had given him her help, her blood, her favorite pajamas… Then he had damaged _her_ property and had the nerve to give her attitude when confronted. _I’m going to shoot him._ Her hand flew to her side and found nothing. The holster was empty. The impact had dislodged the gun. _No shooting him for now._ It was probably for the best. Instead, she poked the center of his chest with an accusatory finger.

“I’m driving now!”

The Dhampir sneered and stared at her collarbone.

“Once you calm down, you will be in no condition to drive.”

The woman could feel it. It was difficult to breathe deeply without agony shooting through her ribcage. Even moving her arms was becoming a struggle as the inflammation increased. Her lips contracted into a fine line. What she would give to wipe that smile off his face.

“Fine!"

She sat back in the passenger seat where her gun had fallen. It was still tempting to shoot him, but she put it back in its leather holster. Then she slammed the door shut and fastened her seatbelt. They resumed their drive in heavy silence. Lexi refused to even look at him.

With each passing minute, her adrenaline levels decreased. The pain was almost too much to bear. Her breathing turned quick and shallow, and she winced at each imperfection of the asphalt road. When they reached the dirt, she focused entirely on being quiet. Then they hit the first pothole, and she could not hold back a cry. The last stretch would be torture. The car slowed down significantly. Lexi sighed in relief but would have rather cut her own finger off than admitting that it helped.

When they arrived, Quinlan exited and walked to her side. He opened the door and with another whimper, she got out. Every step of the way, she remained quiet but he helped her unprompted. Lexi did not even bother being embarrassed when she typed in the code calling the elevator. Of course, she had not given it to him the previous day. She would have no guarantee that he would come back if he left. In addition, she wanted to keep the option of refusing him re-entry.

Another cry of pain escaped her when the elevator cage stopped abruptly. Drops of sweat were falling into her eyes, mixing with tears she could no longer hold back. Avoiding Quinlan’s gaze, she walked carefully to the infirmary. Her arms moving as little as possible, she reached for a bottle of Vicodin pills. She swallowed one and attempted to remove her jacket. That range of movement was impossible without overwhelming agony.

Did she have broken ribs? Frustrated, she grabbed the sheers she had used the previous night and cut her shirt open. A swollen welt from her shoulder to her waist was forming rapidly. She faced the mirror and with extreme care, palpated her ribs one by one. The pain of that self-examination made her want to vomit. Quinlan was using the elevator again. The pneumatic sound echoed in the control room. There was the loud clang of metal dropping on concrete and his heavy footsteps approached.

“How are you?”

Quinlan had entered the room, and she grabbed her jacket shut. Lexi did not want him to see her bruises. However, the painkiller was not yet working and she needed assistance.

“Come help me.”

She asked and expected to be obeyed. Quinlan followed her to her bedroom where she whispered more orders.

“Jacket, slowly.”

She faced away from him, and he pulled gently on the sleeves. The jacket fell around her ankles. She attempted to kick off her boots without success. He quickly untied and removed them without her asking. She’d suffer her cargo pants for the time being, but her bra would cause her pain as it was tight around her ribcage. The woman trembled from embarrassment at being stripped like an infant.

“Shirt.”

He grabbed the fabric around her shoulder and pulled down. It fell on the jacket.

“The…the hooks.”

With her right hand, she pointed at the clasps of her bra. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks and onto her chest. He undid it and unhooked the straps from her shoulders. Her arms pinned to her sides prevented the undergarment from falling. She attempted to control her voice.

“Please leave.”

There was a gush of wind, and the door clicked shut. Knowing Quinlan had been a painful experience so far. She moaned as quietly as possible when lying down on her back. It did not take long for the medication to dull her torment. Humiliation kept her awake longer than the physical ache.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan inventoried the content of the metal trunk while she slept. It had taken time but her breathing had finally turned even and the stirring had stopped. The Dhampir focused on her sounds every few minutes because of his guilt. Of course, she had no idea how close he had been to drinking her in that car and how weak he still was. Attempting to outrun deer on the little blood she had gifted him would have been a mistake. The gamey taste coated his tongue. How repugnant. Even with the quantity ingested, he was still far from his preferred state. Animal blood was a crutch.

Setrakian’s sword lay on the desk next to the Occido Lumen. Quinlan had carefully separated objects made from silver before extracting the rest. There was Dr. Goodweather’s hard drive, given to him by the dying man himself. A duffel bag of clothing and personal items he had already put on his bed.  Most of the trunk’s contents were ammunition and firearms. Too few for his liking.

The Dhampir sat and with a sewing kit, mended his coat. The harness holding his sword would remain usable but would need repairs that a sewing could not provide. With care, he conditioned the leather until satisfied with its flexibility and shine. Quinlan then headed to the bedroom and switched to clean waxed denim pants. The borrowed shirt was replaced by a tight cotton sweater and a vest partially covering the swirls of this throat.

His ear twitched. Lexi was stirring again and with that sound, the rumble of an empty stomach. Quinlan needed the small woman cooperative, and that meant _helping_ her as well. Memories of her naked back in front of him made him cringe. He headed to the kitchen. Cooking had never been a concern of his even when he had briefly enjoyed a domestic life. Nevertheless, he was not a bumbling idiot and had learned a few things passively. A clear jar contained dry oats and as the only familiar ingredient visible, it became his choice. Two handfuls would suffice considering how small she was. After dropping them into a metal pot and adding water, he placed them on the electric stove and waited.

Lexi had gotten out of bed and was using her bathroom. Noises of fabric rubbing on fabric filled his ears followed by her moans and cries. The warrior tensed. Had he known the full extent of her injuries, he might have abstained from mocking her. How very petty he must have appeared. The swollen shoulder, so delicate as to appear bird-like, had been difficult to face. The woman had stopped crying and made her way to the control room and then, to the kitchen.

Quinlan glanced, froze and averted his gaze. A thin button-up shirt covered her frame. It had likely been the only top she could put on without forcing her muscles into agonizing positions. The fabric was too sheer for his liking, and she had not managed to close it at the top.

Resolutely, he avoided looking at what this revealed of her physique. Lexi sat and stared. The Dhampir poured the slimy oatmeal into a bowl, stabbed it with a spoon and placed it in front of her. Thanks were not expected, so he did not take offense when she remained coy. This was his doing and the least he could do was prevent her from starving. As she had done just a day prior. Lexi ate a spoonful, and her eyes widened in surprise. Complete and utter disgust spread over her face. _Oh._ Had he made a mistake?

“There is a jar of lemon jam in the fridge. Can you please…?”

He obeyed, and she added the sweet gel to the porridge. Quinlan crossed his arms and waited patiently for her to consume her meal. Half-way through the bowl, she put the spoon down.

“I thought about what you told me last night. Your first plan was the best and you need to try it again.”

The chair rattled when he pulled it to him and sat.

“Please elaborate,” he asked as politely as he could.

“You and your friends had it right the first time.”

His head cocked at the word. Had they been his friends? He doubted it.

“The coffin idea.”

Quinlan sighed.

“If it had, we would not be having this conversation.”

Lexi licked her lips and closed her eyes tightly. Was it the pain again?

“It worked, Quinlan. The Master was lucky. Luck isn’t a talent or something he can control. Without that brat throwing a fit and exploding New York, he would be rotting at the bottom of the sea.”

Lexi ate another spoonful and Quinlan mulled over her words. The Dhampir had not considered the question before for several reasons. The first being that he no longer possessed the coffin and that silver had become an exceedingly rare commodity. The quantities required to build another were out of his reach.

The second reason was that he did not have the knowledge or expertise required to build another jamming device. Without that technology, even if he managed to shove the beast into the box, he would need to escape the thinking minions. Those with consciousness still intact. All the while dragging a supremely heavy object. Last time, he had not been alone, and it had been difficult.

“The coffin is lost. After I fled from New York, the Master would have destroyed it.”

“Build another one.”

“Silver has become too rare…”

“Use the book. It’s silver, isn’t it?”

The Occido Lumen indeed possessed a thick cover forged from the metal, but it was very obviously insufficient.

“It is…”

“Too small, I know.”

Quinlan frowned in confusion.

“You don’t need to lock up his shell, his body. Just the _worm_. ”

His breath was stuck in his throat. He stood and paced the length of the room. The locket in his pocket felt smooth against his fingers. Quinlan took it out to stroke it as he thought. Once before he had destroyed the Master’s body sufficiently for the worm to be uncovered. Surely, he could do it again? But that would require some assistance. Last time, he had not been alone either.

“The devices, the brains, I could not save them.”

The blast of the atomic device had destroyed them completely. Lexi nodded and swallowed another spoonful.

“Those can also be built again.”

Quinlan’s heartbeat picked up. Had this woman answers for everything? After a year of scrambling after a plan doomed to fail from the start, he was hoping again.

“Those Feeler brains were special… more _powerful_ in the way they shared the bond.”

Lexi waved a dismissive hand and Quinlan caught himself smiling.

“If I need a big battery and I only have small batteries, I just rig them up together and I get a big battery.”

The Dhampir shook his head. What could she possibly mean by that?

“The Feeler brains are big batteries and normal Strigoi brains are small…” she started.

“…so you rig them up together and get a big one,” he finished.

Lexi grinned and nodded.

“Would you be able to decipher Dr. Goodweather’s notes? To build those new devices?”

 She shifted position to face him fully. With a sudden grimace of pain, Lexi cradled her shoulder and side. Quinlan was instantly back in the chair, cursing his restlessness.

“It’s my job to understand how living things work.”

“Are you a doctor?”

Their eyes met and she squinted.

“I have a doctorate, yes.”

The formulation was strange but he did not care.

“You must understand though, those notes are unlikely to be perfect and will still need adaptation,” she said. “Don’t expect me to start building things tomorrow or even next week.”

Lexi shut her eyes. Deep and cutting sadness fell on her face.

“The worse has already come to pass. We have time…and with time we can accumulate resources.”

“Agreed,” said the Dhampir.

Eagerness was pushing him to question further. Part of him wanted to start this instant and another was convinced that a flaw not yet discovered would render the plan impossible. No... She was right. The Master _had been_ lucky. He would no longer be. Quinlan smiled viciously.

“Were you always a…soldier? Warrior? I don’t know…”

The suddenness of the personal question caught him off guard. A soldier? Perhaps not. But a predator…always. He elected not to tell her that.

“Most of my life.”

Her hazel eyes scrutinized his face.

“How old are you?”

That human curiosity.

“I was born nearly two thousand years ago.”

She scrunched up her face, shook her head and waited for him to continue speaking. He remained quiet and she appeared almost worried.

“Are you pulling my leg?”

“Do I seem like the type of person to do such a thing?”

“No… Really not,” she blurted out. “Why do you even have a British accent?”

Quinlan shrugged as he did not have the inclination to answer _all_ of her queries. Her eyebrows knitted together.

“Why are you alone? Why aren’t the other Dhampir helping you?”

This was a fair question but based on an erroneous premise.

“There were four before me, but they are long dead.”

“Well, that…”

She glanced at him then away. Was she pitying him and his lonely existence?

“…must suck only having slow and weak humans as a backup.”

Quinlan did not bring up the Strigoi he had trained for the Ancients. Those were also dead. And so were the humans who had brought him so very close to victory. _All dead._ It struck him that the same fate awaited this one, whether they succeeded or not.

“It does at times.”

Why was this useful woman in such a particularly weak body? It had only been a day and she was already injured.

“How many Strigoi have you killed?” he asked.

It was his turn to interrogate. Lexi snorted.

“Well, you were there. I did not count how many.”

“On the hill…this was the first time you killed a Strigoi?”

The woman blushed and her ears, cheeks, and chest turned a lovely pink.

“Yes. I usually avoided them. Until someone dragged an army of them on my doorstep.”

Quinlan ignored the quip and focused on the meaning. Literally no experience. Nothing.

“You need to learn how to fight them. Firearms eventually run out of bullets and are pointless in very close combat.”

Lexi’s blush intensified. Quinlan tried not to look at the blood rushing under the delicate skin above her heart. The hint of a burn appeared in the back of his throat.

“What…with you? You want to teach me?”

Quinlan stood and filled the bowl with another helping of porridge. To fight, she needed to heal and healing required sustenance.

“You can study Dr. Goodweather’s research until you are healthy. Then you will learn how to defend yourself.”

Lexi ate in silence while the Dhampir imagined each step of the plan.

 


	3. Thirst

Quinlan did not hold back more than strictly necessary. He cared very little if a deflection, a grip or a slap would cause a bruise. As long as she could fight another day, he would hit her. Pain or rather the desire to avoid it was the best of motivations. Or so he had thought until he realized she would not progress further without real _fear_. His previous companions had been formed on the battlefield. Quinlan had found them ready because those who could not achieve that state had perished.

Unfortunately, after a week of daily sessions, the only information she had acquired was that she was quite safe with him. That would no longer do.  
  
“You are not progressing fast enough,” he announced after fifteen minutes of what he considered lazy sparring.  
  
“I’m doing my best,” she replied and wiped sweat from her brow.  
  
“Your best is lacking” -he unzipped his vest- “you are _complacent_.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“If you cannot defend yourself against a single Strigoi...”  
  
He removed the vest and his shirt. Quinlan wanted himself imposing and wild looking. Her eyes widened and there it was... _Doubt_.  
  
“… You are useless to me. ”  
  
“You're not funny,” she retorted and abandoned her fighting stance.  
  
The machete fell to her side. Quinlan did not reply. Most Strigoi could not speak after all. He snarled viciously and unhinged his jaw to let the stinger appear fully. The parted tongue vibrated with each threatening sound. Her smell had shifted. There was the stink of adrenaline in the room.  
  
Quinlan pounced, his stance low, his arms wide just like his savage counterparts. Instead of attacking him, she ran to the door on her left. What a stupid mistake, trying to outrun him. A single moment of panic and all training was discarded.

He felt disappointment and then as her back was completely turned toward him, anger. How would she ever survive by making such decisions? He could have grabbed her shirt, but that seemed too civil. Shiny and thick, her hair was gathered in a braid. It dangled invitingly down her back, and the Dhampir caught it. Lexi managed to keep her balance as her head violently snapped back.  
  
Quinlan wanted to punish her series of bad moves with a strike of his stinger. Her hand shot up and grabbed his. Was she trying prying him off her hair? Was she irredeemably daft? The small fingers squeezed tightly around his and she sliced the braid with her weapon. In the same movement, she swirled around and aimed the blade at his throat. Quinlan was seldom taken aback, but this gave him pause.

The forlorn strands bloomed in his fist like a frayed rope. His free hand easily closed on her wrist and the metal stopped centimeters from his skin. He stared at her wide hazel eyes and clenched jaw. Quinlan looked appreciatively at the determination and he shut his mouth on the stinger. Her fist flew to his face. He quickly tossed the hair to stop it. The Dhampir grinned. Dark waves fell on her cheeks and now barely reached halfway down her neck.  
  
“This trick will only work once,” he commented and let her go.  
  
The wings of her nose flared with each of her breaths.  
  
“Next time I'll just cut your hand off.”  
  
She retreated a few paces.  
  
“You should have tried that now.”  
  
“I guess I'm too nice,” Lexi retorted.  
  
Quinlan knew she had not been. The awkward position had not afforded her enough precision to try.  
  
“If I catch you again, I will bite.”  
  
She swore at him.  
  
“I don't need threats.”  
  
“It's a promise... you obviously need to have something to lose. ”  
  
Lexi chewed her tongue, and he could tell that she understood.  
  
“Besides... deer blood does not truly sustain me. ”  
  
The claws of his stinger poked out menacingly.  
  
“I could use a more substantial meal.”  
  
Lexi picked up the disembodied hair and retrieved the elastic. She used it to secure her brown waves in a short ponytail.  
  
“You will go hungry then.”  
  
Quinlan did not appreciate the witty reply because it rang true. His body would weaken on animal blood, and his control would soon waver. The stinger could grab her, but she should not bleed. However, she did not need to know this for the time being. Eventually, she would figure it out but by then, he hoped to secure more appropriate sustenance.  
  
This time when he pounced without warning, she did not flee. The blade slashed the air with a whistling noise. Her eyes were fixated on his mouth. She was still slow. Lexi retreated somewhat when the stinger left an angry welt on the side of her throat. The skin was intact but it would hurt, nonetheless. Reinvigorated, she attacked instead of just defending which gave him hope but did not inspire mercy.

He wanted her to understand that despite her sudden progress, she was still inadequate. This would be the conclusion of this lesson. The machete skittered on the concrete floor and her hands closed on the snake-like appendage holding her neck. Thirst was rising slowly but he held it back. Sharp nails dug in the stinger and he let go. She gasped and dropped to her knees. The coughing subsided, and she stood with a smile on her flushed face. Quinlan did not approve of her mocking eyes.

“Where is the bite you promised?” she asked after clearing her throat.

Quinlan rattled in irritation. He had hoped that the slight asphyxiation would distract from this.

“Next time,” he lied.

Her smile was mischievous. It vanished when she looked at her nails.

“Let me see it.”

“What are you referring to?”

“Your stinger.”

Quinlan waved it off as unimportant.

“There is blood…please, let me look at it.”

He sighed but relented because she appeared genuinely worried. It emerged slowly from the splayed tongue. She placed her palm between the claws. Quinlan froze at the unnatural contact. Two small cuts were visible but barely bleeding. Still, the corners of her mouth fell in displeasure.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and retracted the appendage but she did not let go right away.

“Wait…I’ve never seen one close.”

The Dhampir considered her request and saw no harm in letting her examine it. She did so carefully but after a while grimaced in confusion.

“How does it even cut? I don’t s…”

Quinlan projected the knife-like structure. The woman heaved in surprise when it poked the side of her hand. He chuckled and she glared disapprovingly. Her index touched the sharp bone.

“Fascinating,” she commented and her arm fell to her side.

The stinger flew back and for an instant his mouth filled with the taste of her skin. The thirst pierced through his chest.

“That is not the qualifier I would use,” he said to distract from the burn.

“What would you use?”

“Deadly.”

Lexi smiled and went to retrieve her blade.

“Most deadly things are fascinating, Quinlan.”

Were they really? Few things were capable of ending his life and none of them were particularly interesting. Perhaps this changed when one was afflicted with human fragility.

“You should go hunt. You’ll heal faster.”

And with those words, she left the room. The small cuts stung and were still stubbornly open. Hair had spread on the floor like a sheer carpet. The blade had sliced through it without hesitation. Had she truly been scared or did she not care at all? The few times he had seen the hair freely flowing, the waves had been quite beautiful. Quinlan smiled without joy. He truly hoped that in the future, she would be able to cut other precious things just as easily. Like he had been doing for so many years.

* * *

Lexi was exhausted but felt _alive._ The elevator made a pneumatic noise at it rose. Quinlan was going for a hunt as he did every second day. Her hair was a mess of uneven strands but that was fine. It was a small price to pay to prove him wrong. Lexi was _not_ complacent and that cut had been her demonstration. It would grow back anyway. Besides, it was so wasteful to keep it so long.

Were she as practical as she should be, she would shave it off. But she could not. This one little thing she would keep so that when she looked in the mirror, she would still see _herself._ A memory flashed its way through the exhaustion. _A tall man, thin and bespectacled was running fingers through the waves and she chastised him for disturbing their pattern._ Lexi caught herself and pushed the feelings back. Using that dark room in her mind required focus and that focus sometimes slipped. Like it did every time she let go to try to sleep.

Holes ran the lengths of both her ears. Her mother had hated her numerous earrings since she had pierced her ears more than ten years prior. _He_ had quite loved them. The stainless steel and silver ornaments were tucked into a small pouch in the drawer of her nightstand. Once the mission was over, she would put them back on.

The woman showered. It was undeniably easier to wash her hair that way. She took scissors to the wet strands and cut until all were the same length. They ended just under her chin. Never in her life had she had such a short haircut. She shrugged and dried them before returning to the control room and continuing her work.

Dr. Goodweather’s notes were crystal clear until about halfway through. That first part she read with absolute enthrallment. It described his knowledge of the Strigoi infection. When she had finished reading through it, questions had remained unanswered. There was not a single reference to Quinlan and his uniqueness. Feeling a little guilty, she had added her own findings about the Dhampir. The circumstances of his birth were written rapidly as he had not been generous in detail. His physical appearance had taken a little longer. Point by point she had described how he varied from normal Strigoi. The markings on his face and torso, the shorter stinger and everything else she could recall. Hopefully, one day she would understand how he had come to be.

The second part of the doctor’s report was pandemonium. Unfortunately, the important writings concerning the jamming devices were in the chaotic part. The elevator came down and Quinlan appeared between the doors. His throat was redder than earlier so he had managed to catch something.

“Good hunt?” she asked, partly because she still felt guilty about his injury.

“It was sufficient.”

The Dhampir looked at her hair and she found herself frowning and pulling at the strands.

“Was Goodweather on drugs when he wrote those damn notes?” she asked.

“No. Just inebriated.”

They were relying on the research of a drunkard. Perfect.

“Will that be a significant hurdle in understanding them?”

Lexi considered the matter. The words were sloppy and he was repeating himself a lot, but the actual content was clear enough.

“No. It’s just really…annoying.”

“Well, we sometimes have to contend with…annoying things.”

Lexi stared at him and her mouth fell slightly open. Was he talking about her? Did he think he was the incarnation of congeniality? Lexi snorted and shook her head.

“Pleasant as ever, huh?”

The Dhampir ignored the remark.

“Do you possess explosive charges still? Such as the ones you utilized against the Strigoi on the hill?”

“A few. Planning on blowing up something?”

“Not quite.”

Quinlan leaned against the desk.

“There is a camp in this county.”

Lexi grimaced in puzzlement.

“What camp? What are you talking about?”

He sighed and raised a hand to his brow. Suddenly, he appeared weary.

“Of course. How would you come to know about them.”

Impatiently, she waved at him for an explanation.

“The Strigoi have gathered humans, much like cattle, in order to maximize blood production. Direct feedings have become quite rare unless it is to create another one of them. The blood is then transported to the nearest cities.”

Her lungs emptied as if Quinlan had struck her in the heart. They were _farming_ humans? For a year she had been safe in the bunker while out there people were being reduced to livestock? She clutched the shirt above her heart as guilt and horror tightened her chest. Then her own words came back at her painfully. “ _The worse has already come to pass. We have time_.” No, they did not have time while this happened out there.

“Do you want to destroy the camp?” her voice was small and shaky.

The Dhampir was staring away from her and her distress.

“No. I want to steal from them.”

Annihilating that nightmarish place sounded much better than a mere burglary.

“What do you want to steal?”

“Blood.”

Lexi’s upper lip lifted in disgust and she dug her face in her sleeves. Animal blood was not cutting it. He had alluded to it but she had still hoped it would be enough to carry them past the finish line. It was necessary for their goal, and ultimately for the sake of all the people in those camps, that Quinlan be fed.

“It is not unlike what your kind used to do to animals until recently.”

She wanted to feel anger at his words but grief was overwhelming and dulling other emotions.

“Why are you telling me this?”

The Dhampir continued to avert his gaze. Was he trying to justify his use of blood? Like she cared about _that._

“Maybe all this is simply a matter of perspective,” he added.

“Quinlan…”

She stood and faced him.

“You don’t need to justify your needs to me.”

Their gaze finally met.

“We’ll steal that blood for you but I have to know…”

Her heart pounded in anticipation.

“…that you are not trying to say that what is happening in those farms is in any way acceptable.”

She swallowed with difficulty. Why would he even fight the Master if none of this bothered him? The Strigoi characteristics of his appearance hit her in full force. The eyes, the discolored skin and teeth, the pointed ears, and that strange throat…Was his mind also so _inhuman?_

“No. That was not the meaning I was trying to convey.”

Lexi closed her eyes in relief. She squeezed his shoulder and closed her laptop.

“Good…maybe we should try to avoid making assumptions about each other.”

She stepped away, intending on having an early dinner and retreat to her bedroom. In the kitchen, she reached for various items and started working on her meal.

“What assumption have I made about you?”

Quinlan stood by the door.

“What _my_ kind used to do to animals…Does that include me?”

“Yes.”

Lexi burst out laughing.

“Since I could provide for myself, I’ve only eaten plants.”

Lexi did not mention the animals she had had to kill during her studies. They were talking about food after all. Before he could speak she added, “How about you tell me about your plan while I make this?”

The Dhampir sat at the table and spoke of what they needed to do.

 

 


	4. Acts of cruelty

The truck lifted dust off the road which flew into the ochre light. Lexi’s stomach dropped and twisted as she considered what they were doing. This amounted to piracy. Never in her thirty years of life, would she have imagined pulling off such a stunt.  
  
“Can you hear how many there are?” she whispered to the Dhampir lying a meter to her left.  
  
His head twitched to the side in concentration.  
  
“There are two Strigoi and the human driver.”  
  
Lexi hid her admiration. The man had enough of an ego without her letting on what she found impressive about him. Now that was one impressive thing about him, the size of his ego. Two small charges were buried under the road and the vehicle barreled toward them. Quinlan had already prepared a rifle and was now uncovering the switch to activate the bombs. Lexi stared at the small instrument. Those were her last explosive charges and they would use them to steal blood of all things.

The memory of his barely restrained hunger kept her from complaining. Sleeping was difficult enough on a normal day. Since Quinlan had more or less kicked his way into her life and destroyed her carefully established routine, rest had been rarer still. She did not fool herself into thinking that the small lock on her door would stop him if he truly wanted to get to her. The pressure behind her eyes increased every day, and she needed to sleep.  
  
“You should cover your ears,” he said and flipped the switch.  
  
Lexi clasped her gloved palms on her lobes. The explosion sent debris flying over their heads. Still intact, the truck had stopped. There was a gaping hole just ahead of it. A Strigoi made its way out and Quinlan took aim but did not shoot until the second stepped out. Then within seconds, both bodies hit the ground. The driver was slumped over the wheel, unconscious or dead.  
  
“We should help him,” said Lexi as she stood.  
  
Quinlan’s arm shot up to hold her.  
  
“We will do no such thing. I cannot be seen. ”  
  
While organizing this mission, the Dhampir had been clear that if the Master thought him dead, there was no reason to refute that belief. Lexi glared, shook her arm free of his grasp and retorted:  
  
“Well, I can.”  
  
His expression was difficult to read with the combination of his hood and large sunglasses.  
  
“Do as you wish. I will not assist you. ”  
  
“I did not count on it,” she replied with a smirk.  
  
Both descended to the truck. His footsteps sounded like raindrops as he used his fantastic speed to transfer the liquid cargo to their own vehicle. The driver was a young man, probably younger than she was. His forehead bled from a nasty gash but he still breathed. She took his gun and put it in her own pocket. More weapons always sounded good. The man was not as heavy as she expected. But that was a stupid expectation. Since the Fall, nobody was as heavy as they should be. Not even collaborators. She pulled him off the road and away from Quinlan who still worked quickly.  
  
“What?”  
  
The man startled. Lexi swore as she had not expected him to regain consciousness before their departure. His head lolled up and their gaze met. She stumbled away at the expression of pure hatred.  
  
“Terrorist cunt!” he yelled and immediately reached for his weapon.  
  
The emptiness of his holster jolted him awake completely. He jumped at her, his large hands outstretched. The firearm was already in her fist. She lifted it just as Quinlan appeared between them. He impaled the man with the bone-hilted sword. The driver stared at his wound in confusion then at Quinlan’s face in horror. The stinger collided with his naked throat, producing a wet thud. Within three seconds his face turned ashen and in less than twenty seconds, he was dead. Only then did Quinlan remove his sword from the body. The warrior wiped the metal clean on the black uniform of his victim.  
  
Lexi did feel horror at his death but much less than she had anticipated. Guilt and sorrow were crushing her for other reasons. The man had died experiencing her worst nightmare. Had this happened to him as well? The trucker’s face became one with that of a thin man wearing rimless glasses. This was her fault because she had been too slow… That suffering was entirely on her. She locked the rising grief in the small dark room and turned to the Dhampir.  
  
“Why did you do that, Quinlan?”  
  
“As I recall… he attacked you. ”  
  
Lexi nodded in agreement. This was an undeniable fact and she pointed at the gun in her hand.  
  
“Yes, I was going to shoot him.”  
  
“Then what is the meaning of your question?”  
  
“You have a literal truckload of blood, just for you. You did not need his. ”  
  
Quinlan brow furrowed slightly. She could not tell whether it was irritation or confusion. Lexi sighed.  
  
“You could have killed him in an instant without him ever understanding what was happening.”  
  
Her voice was very low and measured as it always was when she used the small dark room.  
  
“You don’t have to be kind… but you do not need to be cruel. ”  
  
Then the absolute pointlessness of her comments struck her, and she added, “Forget about it, it’s not like I can stop you from doing whatever it is that you wanna do. ”  
  
Quinlan put the sword back in its sheath. He smirked menacingly.  
  
“You are correct. By that, I refer to your last statement. ”  
  
Lexi chuckled and the smirk vanished.  
  
“I fully expected you to agree with that one… Alright, let’s light this mess on fire. ”  
  
Quinlan dumped the dead Strigoi in the back of the empty truck, and she pulled the driver back in his seat. Black smoke billowed as they drove away at neck-breaking speed. The blood sloshed in the back where half a dozen empty bags laid on the floor. She had not even had time to see him feed. Quinlan must have been secretly quite desperate. And the day they had met, he had not even had the benefit of animal blood. Lexi moved uncomfortably in her seat at the idea creeping in her mind.  
  
“That’s what you wanted to do to me. That first day. ”  
  
Quinlan did not answer right away, and she thought for a second that he had not heard.  
  
“Yes, when you pointed your gun at me that was my intention.”  
  
Well, at least his honesty was refreshing.  
  
“Why didn’t you?”  
  
The sun was going down and the yellowish light darkened further. Quinlan removed his sunglasses and put them in his pocket.  
  
“Because you lowered the gun.”  
  
Lexi shuddered. Unknowingly, she had been moments from death.  
  
“Unless you are immune to cyanide, I would have taken you with me.”  
  
His gaze shifted in recollection.  
  
“The thing in your breast pocket. It was poison? ”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
For a reason privy to him, he smiled.  
  
“I do not believe that I am immune to such substance. So yes, we would have perished together. ”  
  
“How very romantic.” Lexi sneered.  
  
The sun was a faint line of dirty light on the horizon.  
  
“Why are you divulging this information? The pill will now be useless against me. ”  
  
Lexi rolled her eyes.  
  
“Do you plan on murdering me and forgot to tell me about it?”  
  
Quinlan laughed. It was a bark-like, booming noise so unexpected that Lexi found herself smiling.  
  
“No, I have not. My plans require you to stay alive. ”  
  
“Voilà! On est d’accord. ” (There! We agree.)  
  
She cringed. Her native language crept back up in moments of intense exhaustion. Quinlan did not immediately remark on it she hoped he would ignore it.  
  
“Vous parlez français?” (You speak French?)  
  
She winced at the total absence of an accent. If it were not for the low rumble accompanying his voice, this could have been a compatriot speaking.  
  
“It’s my mother tongue. I don’t feel like speaking it at the moment. It just came out. ”  
  
The familiar words and intonations were like knives in her brain. They brought back the memories of all that was lost. Of the one she had lost. English allowed for an emotional detachment she craved. That she needed.  
  
“Very well.”  
  
Still, there was one thing she could not let go.  
  
“Even if we did speak it… You don’t use “Vous” with me, come on… It makes me feel old. ”  
  
And disconnected. The polite form was used to address strangers. Quinlan was still very much a stranger but she had just spent an entire year alone with a cat. As distasteful as she found him, he was still company. Another soul.  
  
“Do not worry… you are still very young. ”  
  
Lexi tried to decipher the real meaning behind those words. He probably implied that she lacked his wisdom. The swirls on his neck were very flushed, and she turned away as her thoughts wandered to the truck driver. She tossed those back in the black room mercilessly. At the end of times, messed up things happened and she could not let all of them tear her apart.  
  
“You should sleep. We will not arrive at the compound for several hours. ”  
  
Keeping her eyes open was a difficult task, but she knew she would never sleep for longer than five minutes. She would just end up frustrated. Her head moved at the rhythm of the drive and she drifted.  
  


* * *

  
  
The small woman’s breathing was now regular and deep. At the back, the wet sounds of the blood resonated and filled him with intense satisfaction. It had been a long time since he had had the luxury of a base of operations and the perks were undeniable. He glanced at the small form on the passenger seat. Human associates also had perks. However, this one was particularly irritating and opinionated.   
  
Her words wormed their way through his mind. “You do not need to be cruel.” Excessively irritating. Forming moralistic opinions was easy without the burden of a lifelong mission. The scene replayed in his mind’s eye with its usual accuracy. The anguish on her face as she stared at the dead man and then the sudden calmness rising from within. The distress had melted away from her traits in an instant. He had thought her in shock until she had started speaking.  
  
The woman whispered in her sleep and her muscles contracted. She awoke but remained motionless. Quinlan estimated that she had slept for less than an hour. This aspect of her, he also found deeply inconvenient. The constant state of exhaustion diminished her value considerably. Her issue was on par with that of the late Dr. Goodweather. Both insomnia and alcohol abuse dulled senses, intelligence and physical strength.

Those human weaknesses were a plague. He conceded that at the very least, hers was involuntary. The rest of the trip, she only dozed asleep for a few minutes at a time.

 

* * *

  
The blood was placed into a chest freezer that Lexi did not use often. Quinlan seemed particularly satisfied with their bounty but also, deeply relieved. The folds and swirls adorning his neck were redder than she had ever seen. Considering the events of that day, she was quite convinced that training was off the table. For that reason, as the Dhampir cleaned and oiled his weapons, she had a quick dinner and a shower.

The road dust settled on the tiled floors when she cut off the water. Clean, fed and tired she sat at her drawing table and doodled mindlessly. Her thoughts tried to wander to the driver’s fate, but she controlled them. The words she had uttered lingered. Was she a hypocrite? Could she scold him for being cruel? She was not without sin in that regard. Lexi cringed at the word sin. Memories seeped through that door in her head.  
  
  
  
Lexi was crouching in a corner, hugging her knees and crying. Sitting on the floor on the other side of the room, her mother rocked while wailing. The bible she held was wet with her tears. Lexi observed her face, so deformed by anguish as to cease being human. The woman was even starting to drool slightly, and it mixed with the blood from her cut lip. This scene, all of it, was painfully familiar. A perceived slight, a burned meal or a displeasing glance and this was how her father’s punishments ended. Every single time. And as always, Lexi would cry, hug her mother and… nothing. Things would stay the same, and the cycle would repeat.  
  
Her eyes widened with that realization. And as she looked at her mother, expecting to feel pity and love, she found herself filled with contempt. Did Lexi appear as pathetic when she cried? The tears dried instantly and she stood. The eight-year-old girl ignored the pain in her back and approached the adult woman. Why was her mother so weak? The desire to slap her across the face and make her quiet was shocking to the child. She pushed that violent urge into the back of her mind, into a dark undiscovered corner. Then she locked it behind a small door. The woman spread her arms to receive her daughter’s embrace. Lexi stood still, looked into her mother’s face and said, “One day, he will kill you. ”  
  
Then she slapped the Bible out of her hands. The woman gasped in surprise and horror. Lexi ran out of the room. Then the girl fled the house and only stopped running when she no longer recognized her surroundings.  
  
  
  
Lexi was fifteen and her parents had been divorced for six years. Due to her stubbornness, she had managed to avoid visiting her father for the past three years. Even after he had called to announce his cancer diagnosis, she had not relented. That day, because he was dying and she was his only relative, she had gone to see him at the hospital. Lexi was disgusted at his gaunt appearance but even more so at his words.  
  
“Pray with me, Alexandra.”  
  
The teenager waited for the nurse to leave the room to reply.  
  
“Do you think you are going to heaven, dad?”  
  
He appeared confused. Lexi marveled at the mental gymnastics of her progenitor. This monster thought himself a good man.  
  
“If one repents…” he started in a feeble voice.  
  
“If God sends you to Heaven, then I will look forward to Hell,” she interrupted.  
  
The man stared in horror, much like her mother had that dreadful day. This time Lexi did not need to push her feelings away. She enjoyed the pain she inflicted.  
  
“I’ll pray with you.”  
  
Her lips rose in revulsion. For hours after each beating, she had read the Bible with her mother. Drawing on that knowledge, she selected a sentence that had always resonated with her. Then she stood and while leaving said:  
  
“As I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will not fear you.”  
  
The man died alone later that day.  
  
  
  
Those were Lexi’s most shameful memories. Where she had wielded her words, not unlike the way Quinlan wielded his sword. More shameful still, because she did not regret them. The woman was still drawing and as her mind wandered, the outlines of cats formed on the paper. One turned out more elaborate. Hairless with clear blue eyes. She giggled while adding stripes to its face. A knock on her door startled her. Quinlan had never dared disturb her during that quiet time in the evening. Although he had already seen that room, she went to the door and only opened it a crack. It was her private space and not even his gaze would be allowed inside.  
  
“What?” she asked quite rudely.  
  
Her nerves were raw from sleep deprivation, the events of the day and the reminiscing.  
  
“Your day is not over. You have not yet trained. ”  
  
“I’ve already showered…”  
  
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. His arms were crossed on his large chest.  
  
“You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I was asking.”  
  
He stepped back and headed to the gym.  
  
“Do not make me come back and get you.”  
  
His voice echoed from across the compound, full of threats. Lexi fumed with indignation. Today, she would manage to strike his stupid striped face.

 

 

* * *

 


	5. Acts of mercy

 

The hardware store sat at the edge of an abandoned mall. Just after the Fall, the entire town had been cleared of its inhabitants. They had been trucked away in an orderly fashion. Shops had been closed by humans who thought they would live another day and come back. Lexi reviewed the list again. If the hardware store did not provide them with the more specialized pieces of equipment, the computer shop might. The beam of her small flashlight stopped on each item lined on the shelves.

This trip was the result of the first conclusions drawn from Goodweather’s texts. They needed materials to build the devices and those were unlikely to change even with the adjustments she thought they might need. Screws and wires would stay the same. Lexi was relieved that they were finally taking their first actions for the plan despite her slowness.

Exhaustion made her inefficient in her work and daily sparring did not help. The woman kept catching herself reading the same paragraphs over and over again. Numbers floated on the screen without meaning. At best, she managed maybe an hour of real intellectual focus per day.

Boredom did not suit the Dhampir who either cared for his weapons, attempted to decipher the Occido Lumen, or read the books Lexi had lent him. Every few days, he interrogated her on her progress which added to her stress. Their mission appeared like an impossibly huge task. In addition, when she obsessed over it instead of sleeping, pieces were still missing. And it bothered her.

“How are we going to find him?” she asked.

The Dhampir walked in darkness without need for a flashlight.

“He made himself vulnerable. He is exposed.”

“That’s not an answer, Quinlan.”

“Strigoi cannot be coerced into giving up their Master’s whereabouts. His oversight was taking _human_ servants. ”

The reason why Quinlan had neglected to bring up this issue earlier smacked her in the face.

“You want to coerce a human into telling us where he is?”

Lexi wanted to turn the light toward him to see his expression but that seemed too rude.

“I do.”

“And by ‘coerce’ you mean torture?”

“If need be.”

Her flashlight illuminated Plexiglas sheets which they would need. She put them into the large trolley. Was it worth it? However evil the actions of those collaborators might be, did they deserve to suffer at the hands of the Dhampir?

“Sometimes one _does_ need to be cruel.”

Unconvinced by those words, she walked on.

“Is there any other way?”

“I cannot think of another way at this moment. If any such other option arises, I will consider it.”

“I have a feeling that the reason isn’t based on an ethical dilemma.”

“No. Humans are treacherous creatures. They would certainly try to deceive me in order to alleviate their suffering. I would prefer more reliable methods.”

_Of-fucking-course._ Their searching continued in awkward silence. The woman did not want to think about this matter any longer. What could she possibly do to stop him if he ever decided to hurt someone again? _Nothing_.

Soon they returned to the hall of the mall with a full trolley.  She matched every item to the words on the list and ticked them while Quinlan transferred them to duffel bags.

“OK we’re done here…Let’s go to the supermarket.”

If any unperishable foods remained intact on the premises, they would be fools not to take advantage. For some reason, she had whispered the words but Quinlan replied at a normal volume.

“You can go ahead while I load this in the truck.”

Lexi froze _._ In the past, she had had to leave the safety of her bunker. This would not be any different. Then why was she suddenly so cold? She could not read his face as he stood against the light of the large windows.

“I will be back…”

He took the heavy bags off the floor without apparent effort.

“I promise,” he added more gently.

Lexi blushed as he disappeared. Her booted feet were loud on the tiled floors. She lifted dust with every movement. Just before reaching the glass door of the large food store, she sneezed loudly. Something shattered in the obscurity of the windowless supermarket. The door had already been pried open. Her stomach fell but she hardened herself, both mind and body. There was a smear of blood on the handle.

Lexi drew her gun and swiped the safety off with her thumb. Strigoi did not need or care for old cans or bags of rice. But not all humans could be trusted. The image of the driver appeared in her mind and she pushed the thought of the collaborator away. Quinlan had been very clear that he could not be seen. They had at the very least been heard. Could she do it? Take a life in cold blood to protect their mission? Not even that…to extinguish the remote possibility of being discovered that way. But he had also been clear that memories could be stolen. Was he close? Could he hear her?

“Quinlan…there is someone here,” she whispered.

There was movement just behind a shelf of stale bread. A mop of dirty blonde hair and the shine of fresh red blood on naked skin. The silhouette was small. Lexi’s chest contracted painfully. It was a woman…no. A _girl_. Not even a teenager or so she seemed. It was likely that her growth had been stunted by at least a year of malnutrition. The child was alone, hurt and afraid. The gun’s safety clicked back on.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan reenterred the large building after a glance at the gunmetal sky. Clouds churned menacingly. They would need to leave soon to avoid the brunt of the storm. The musical sound of breaking glass reached him. He flexed his ear to concentrate on its source. Lexi was not usually clumsy. He expected a swear but instead, he heard her call his name. Her voice sounded very faint and _scared._

“Quinlan…there is someone here.”

His heart accelerated and the world came to a grinding halt as he ran to her. Of course, his newest ally would get herself killed in a matter of weeks. Humans always needed babysitting. There was the smallest pang of guilt as he remembered her face when he had walked away. She _knew_ she was not ready to be left alone but he had ignored it. As he always ignored her discomfort. He needed to push her, did he not?

Every day, while she redrew the schematics, while she redid the calculations and especially during the training sessions. He ignored her pain and her growing fatigue. Quinlan also paid little mind to her general dislike of him. The very words she had uttered above that corpse had given him permission. No need for kindness. Lexi stood by the glass doors, raising both hands in his direction. He stopped running and cocked his head in interrogation.

“Put on your hood and your glasses. It’s just a kid. Don’t scare her.”

Quinlan took a deep breath and the coppery smell of blood burned the back of his throat.

“She is hurt,” he said.

“I know. Stay back, please.”

She took a medical kit out of one of the pockets of her cargo pants and entered the large room carefully. The Dhampir covered his features as asked.

“Hey, I know you’re in here. I can help you. We have shelter nearby.”

Quinlan winced at how readily she had disclosed this information.

“Are you alone?” yelled the girl.

Her voice was shaky and high pitched. Lexi was right, she was merely a child.

“No. My friend is waiting outside. He is always grumpy so it’s better if we talk alone.”

He raised a smooth eyebrow at the quip.

“I’m cut,” whimpered the child.

“I know. I can make it better if you let me.”

There were tentative footsteps. Lexi gasped quietly and her heartbeat exploded into a gallop. Quinlan disobeyed her request and came to stand by her. The child had stepped into the fading light but stopped when the Dhampir had appeared. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin clammy and greyish. Blood had poured heavily from her neck down onto her shoulder and arm. Worms crawled under her skin, obvious to him but invisible to Lexi. Nevertheless, his associate knew. Lexi’s eyes filled with tears. Quinlan reached for his sword. Small fingers grabbed his hand. She placed her other palm on his chest in a calming gesture. The pointy chin trembled.

“Don’t. Please,” she murmured.

Her eyes begged. A single tear exploded on her jacket and she quickly wiped her face. Quinlan, against his better judgment, dropped his arm. He peered into the supplicating eyes. He thought he would enjoy it, the moment she would ask for something without that constant defiance. This was not enjoyable. Her pain and discomfort were acceptable when her spirits stood proud. This pain, he wished he could have avoided her. The woman took a deep breath and turned to the child.

“Let’s clean you up!” she boomed cheerfully.

With wet wipes, she cleared the blood away from the girl’s skin, careful not to touch it even with her gloved hands. She chatted away about the bed the girl would soon enjoy, the warm shower, the movies, and the music. _Why was she doing this?_ Quinlan’s patience was being tested with her pointless chattering. He would never allow the child to step foot near the compound.

“I even have a cat!” said Lexi and for the first time, the girl smiled.

_Why lie about this?_

“What’s his name?”

“Her name is Jules.”

She applied a large bandage on the wound and put her own jacket on the child’s shoulders.

“If you want you can find her a toy or a treat. Then she will like you right away. I think they are down this way. You go ahead while I pack my medical bag.”

The girl’s smile widened. She put her skinny arms inside the sleeves before turning away. The little human felt safe. Her future was suddenly bright with all that she desired. She made it four steps before Lexi took out her gun and removed the safety. She aimed carefully and pulled the trigger. Quinlan flinched at the sound. It was always painful in closed spaces. The little head cracked open from the force of the shot and its contents spread on the white tiles. Lexi turned away from the body and packed her bag. Then she left to another part of the store, out of Quinlan’s sight.

Cans clinked and dried cereals rushed into plastic. The crinkling of bags stopped and she sobbed softly. Throughout her pillaging, she cried and Quinlan attempted to ignore it. Lexi was making great efforts to be as quiet as possible. When she came back, he took most of the bags from her and they exited the store. It felt very much like leaving a tomb. Had she been kind? Was it really better for death to come without notice? He thought about the children he had once loved and decided that yes, she had been very kind.

 

* * *

 

Lexi wiped her face a last time before stepping into the frigid air. The country had been cold since the nuclear explosions had lifted dirt into the atmosphere. Today it was frozen and dead even more than usual. No. _She_ was frozen and dead, the weather was the same. The crimson blood spattering the white floor was seared into her mind. More nightmare material. Quinlan grabbed her arm and growled lowly. At this very moment, she could not be bothered by his bullshit. Lexi tried to pull herself free from his grip.

“She was followed,” he whispered. “We must hide.”

She had no idea what he meant. The parking lot was clear and their truck just a few meters away. They should just drive off. Then the wind carried the snarls and rapid footsteps coming from just around the corner. Lexi felt sick. She could never run fast enough. His arms closed around her waist and shoulders. They whizzed through the air like an arrow.

The Dhampir’s gloved hands dug too deeply into her muscles and she whimpered in pain. Then only one arm held her tightly and metal broke with a clank. Her feet left the ground and she fell against his chest. Eyes wide open, she could see nothing. She lifted herself on her hands and knees then froze. Quinlan lied just under her. She gathered her thoughts. They were in the trunk of a car. He had broken the lock with a single hand. When she reached, cold metal encircled her uncomfortably close.

There was not even space for her to lie next to him. She swallowed painfully and opened her mouth. His gloved finger landed across her lips. Even in her state of panic she understood. _Remain quiet_. He could see. This was somewhat reassuring. Opening or closing her eyes made no difference. All was black. Outside there was the rapid smacking of footsteps on hard ground. It quickly disappeared.

She waited for several minutes of silence before allowing herself to shift position. The uneven metal was digging painfully into her knee. A loud metallic creak made her grimace. Suddenly his hand covered her mouth , muffling an “oof” of surprise as he pulled her to his chest. Lexi found herself lying flat on top of him with their legs intertwined. His hand left her mouth but instinctively, she pushed back against him. The arms were unrelenting shackles.

She gave up and lied still. The powerful arms fell to his sides. His chest was firm and too warm, as if he was running a fever. He smelled faintly of lemons. The forced contact felt deeply wrong. Nevertheless, she attempted to relax her muscles as she could feel a cramp forming in her back.

Raindrops on the metal above made her flinch. When their sounds intensified and filled the trunk she finally managed to undo the knots that were her back and legs. In her left ear there was the splatter of water and in her right, the thud of Quinlan’s heart. After a while she shivered. It was just above freezing temperature and she did not have a jacket anymore. His body heat did not reach her back. Low ambient temperatures were slowly robbing her of her warmth.

The trembling reached her teeth. Quinlan’s coat closed around her. His fists kept a firm grip to prevent the fabric from sliding off her back. She sighed in relief and relaxed again. Heartbeats coming from him were steady. Surely, if that was the case it meant they were safe? The pumping heart and chatter of the rain were pushing her into a trance. For the first time in a year, the obsessive thoughts did not arise after she closed her eyes. The tired woman fell asleep.

 

“Lexi?”

His voice was very far and the pull of unconsciousness too alluring.

“We should depart _now_.”

He could go if he wanted to but she would stay right there and sleep some more. The coat fell open. She moaned in protest as cold air smacked her back. Quinlan’s chest vibrated with quiet laughter and she frowned. Why was he so goddamn annoying right now? The gloved hands rubbed her shoulders. Gently at first, then vigorously when she did not react fast enough. With a grunt, she peeled herself off of him and pushed the lid of the truck open. Lexi grimaced at the light and the needles it sent through her eyes. Her feet hit the dry ground and she stared in confusion.

“I thought it was raining?” she asked.

“It was.”

The Dhampir made no sense. They walked to the truck and she breathed the coolness in with delight. Her head was heavy from the staleness of the enclosed space.

“How long was I out?” she asked and stretched.

“About twelve hours.”

She interrupted her stretching and looked around. The light was low and the sky as clear as it could get. It was obviously a new day.

“That’s not possible.”

Quinlan did not answer and retrieved the few grocery bags which had not been too affected by the downpour.

“They were searching for that long?”

Certainly, the girl’s body would have been hard to miss. Her eyes stung at that thought.

“No. But you needed to rest and I prefer not to travel at night.”

Lexi blushed and took a big gulp of water from a bottle she found under her seat. The last time she had slept this well and this long she had been at home. Her real home, and in her real bed with _him._ Even the pangs of hunger could not spoil how good she felt without the constant pressure of exhaustion.

 

* * *

 

For two days Quinlan’s associate worked better than usual. Her sparring was also significantly improved. Quick decisions were made quicker but also _smarter._ The most noticeable change had been her obvious enjoyment at running and slashing. She smiled and even laughed at her newfound strength. Quinlan had been right to let her sleep as the benefits had surpassed his expectations.

After dinner, she closed herself in her bedroom and played the piano. It was the very first time she touched the instrument since Quinlan had met her. The first five minutes were clumsy but she soon found her bearings. The tune turned steady and true. After four songs, Quinlan caught himself enjoying the music. All of the songs were melancholic and hauntingly beautiful. She played for another quarter of an hour then went to bed.

Quinlan decided that he would attempt to do the same despite the last song playing in a loop in his mind. Would he still be able to find the right keys? It had been so very long. The Dhampir removed his boots, belt and vest and laid them carefully on the unique chair in his bedroom. The bed was uncomfortable but sufficient for his needs. He crossed white fingers under his hairless skull and mentally drew a music sheet of the tunes.

Despite his focus, her stirring and sighing sometimes caught his attention. He had found all the notes and compiled them into his memory. Quinlan had taken his time and rather enjoyed this little mental exercise. In the other room, she still moved. Her tossing intensified with her frustration and the Dhampir frowned. In the morning, she would be a shell of herself once again.

That would not do. They were making much better progress now. Maybe some drugs could help? The woman grunted and left her bed. She paced her room for a minute and opened her door. Would she work through the night instead? No, her light footsteps were getting closer. She was standing in front of his bedroom and Quinlan’s brows shot up in surprise. She knocked. _Once_. Very much like the caress of a knuckle but clear as a bell for him.

“Yes?” he said and the door opened.

Lexi’s blushed face appeared. A blanket hugged her shoulders. Quinlan was reminded of a child seeking reassurance after a nightmare.

“I can’t sleep,” she whispered and took two steps in his direction.

What could she possibly think he would do about this? Knock her unconscious?

“Can I stay here?”

The last word was barely audible. Her heart was beating madly, slightly muffled by the duvet. How would that help? Then he saw the begging eyes and the pride tossed aside. She was not in pain but once again, this was not enjoyable. No…clearly he had been wrong in thinking that this would be satisfying. Defiance suited her best because despair made her appear too fragile. Could he be kind? Just this one time? Without a mocking glare, a sharp remark or a smirk?

“Do as you wish,” he finally said and remained immobile.

She huddled on the small strip of unoccupied mattress. He returned to his mental exercise and wrote the notes of another song. Slowly, as if Quinlan were some kind of wild animal, she crawled closer. His concentration broke when her small fist closed on his shirt. She pressed her face against his heart.

How could this possibly help her? The healthy smell of her skin filled his nose and he made his inhalations shallower. Her heartbeat slowed and soon, she fell asleep. Just like two days prior in the trunk where they had hidden. On that day he had thought that the crushing fatigue had tamed her anxieties. Now he had to revise this assessment. His role in that event was undeniable.

The small woman felt safe against his chest. Her cheek so close to the stinger she had called fascinating. Quinlan did not know what to make of this. During trainings, he had wanted her scared of him. Now it struck him that instead, he had demonstrated the extent of his self-control and how very little danger she was facing in his presence. More than this, every time she had been in perceived peril, he had stood between her and the threat. And now, at her most vulnerable, she trusted him implicitly. It was rather strange.

* * *

* * *


	6. Trust

Sleeping was a blessing. Her brain ran smoothly, and the daily sparring had become enjoyable. Energy could be allocated to other matters such as gardening and the occasional drawing. Sometimes, looking over her shoulder to make sure she was alone, she edited Goodweather’s notes further. Adding educated guesses as to the reasons behind Quinlan’s birth.

The price of that rest was that she now _owed_ him. It was on her mind every night as she attempted to fall asleep by herself and quickly gave up. After the tenth night, she had stopped knocking and just quietly slipped to his side. The Dhampir had always been awake, and Lexi was convinced that he could hear everything that occurred within the confines of the bunker. Habit stemming from repetition decreased the awkwardness of their shared nights.

His room remained quite empty. Just a chair on which he deposited his clothes and sword. In a corner, the metal trunk. It felt as if he could just grab all his belongings and disappear in an instant. That was probably the thought behind the minimalistic decor.

Lexi and Quinlan leaned above a sturdy table cluttered with various tools.

“It feels wrong to do that.”

The Dhampir paused to look at her then put on his leather gloves.

“May I remind you that this was your idea?”

“I’m not saying we should ditch the plan and kick the Master into a volcano or send him to outer space, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. Look at it, it’s beautiful! It’s a work of art.”

Quinlan did not reply. He stared at her for an unnecessarily long moment, scowling. Lexi cleared her throat and he looked away. Without hesitation, he tore the silver cover off the Occido Lumen. Lexi grimaced. She collected the pages and tied them together. With reverence, she deposited them in a wooden box. The Dhampir was already hammering at the thick silver panel. His lips lifted in concentration, revealing the sharpness of his front teeth. After putting the mangled book in Quinlan’s metal trunk, she went back to observe.

Each powerful blow echoed in her chest. He shaped the soft metal into an oval container. At times he stopped to verify that the edges were straight and in the end, he measured its dimensions carefully. Then he repeated the process with the back cover of the book. The two pieces fit snugly into each other. The box was the length and width of his hand. Flattened and deformed engravings ran on its surface.

On the stove, using a cast iron pan, they melted lead wire. The liquefied metal shimmered beautifully. Quinlan poured it on the closed box. Once the first side had cooled, he poured more lead on the other. The result was a misshapen lump that Quinlan filed and cut until smooth. After separating the two pieces, he continued filing until they once again fit together snugly. Both stared at the final result but Lexi left after a while. This was an important moment for him that she did not wish to disturb.

Besides, she had her own work to worry about. And _oh boy_ , did she worry. Lexi sat at her desk. The computer displayed calculations and code developed by the late Dutch Velder. The numbers had finally started making sense and Lexi understood that she had bitten more than she could chew. Quinlan had just finished the box, and she could not let him down. She entered other parameters, such as the addition of five normal Strigoi brains.

Every single time, the analysis revealed that the jamming device would be useless. She held her face into her hands and whimpered. How she wished for written notes from the hacker herself. She needed to clear her mind. To think fresh about the paradigm presented on the laptop screen. Mortified by her own incompetence in this crucial moment, she swore and ran.

 

* * *

 

Lexi rushed to the gym, swearing under her breath in French. Quinlan stood another moment with his arms folded over his chest then when the pounding started in the other room, he followed. With a stick, she was striking madly at the sandbag. The heavy object barely moved despite the savagery of her assault. Quinlan grinned at the total inadequacy of her stance and the weakness of each blow.

“That is not how I taught you,” he said.

Lexi glared above her shoulder, dropped the stick and used her bare fists to unleash her frustrations.

“This is…not…a…training session!” She spat back. “LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”

His years as a teacher made him incapable of ignoring her mistakes. A few more punches and she would probably end up hurting herself. It would delay their progress further. Had she used another tone, he might have tried a more gentle approach.

“Cease this instant,” he ordered and closed the distance between them.

The woman ignored him, and he felt a pang of annoyance. Lexi was becoming too comfortable with the idea of disrespecting him. Quinlan caught her arm and pulled her away from the bag. Her knuckles were an angry red and her cheeks and ears flushed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed.

“Preventing you from hurting yourself.”

It was not entirely true. The small body tensed and her gaze turned cold.

“Let go of me. I don’t need you to patronize me.”

Quinlan hesitated. On one hand, there was no rational reason for him to continue holding on but on the other hand, he simply did not want to humor her. His grip tightened. She would calm down and act reasonably. They had crucial work to finish.

Her fist flew to his face, surprising him. Not the punch which had been sloppy and slow but the _intention_ to strike him. His own, much larger hand closed on hers. The corners of her mouth fell but not in disappointment. She was bracing herself as her knee flew up to his crotch. Quinlan avoided it with ease and sneered. Her struggle was pointless but she still fought dirty. Both her arms were clamped firmly in his hands, and she attempted to wriggle free.

“Calm yourself.” He chuckled.

Her eyes grew wide and for an instant, he saw how he had just bruised her pride. She scrutinized every part of his body, searching for a non-existent weakness. The hazel eyes zeroed in on his throat. What had she found there? Muscles contracted intensely in her jaw and she grimaced in pain.

The coppery scent of her blood hit him with each of her breaths. Quinlan winced. _I am sated, this is nothing_. Just this morning he had consumed a bag of blood. But it had been cold, thin and almost tasteless. With the lingering of misery and vitamin deficiency. The sad result of repeated forced bleeding on deprived people. He knew hers was so much more satisfying. Vibrant, warm and healthy.

The tip of her tongue deposited a fat drop of blood at the corner of her mouth. Quinlan froze and his grip faltered. Sensing the opening, she pulled herself free and scrambled out of his reach. Her heart pounded viciously against her ribs, and she frowned at him, her chin high in defiance. The drop had made its way down her face and jaw.

Lexi’s anger melted when she saw his third eyelid close briefly. It was now replaced by confusion and apprehension. She glanced at the door then at the Dhampir in her way. Quinlan fully intended on letting her leave but his body reacted instinctively as she ran past him. His arm encircled her shoulders, and he sprang to the wall where he pinned her with a thud. Tears were filling her eyes, and she had stopped fighting. He calmed himself and forced his stinger to stay within the confines of his mouth. The Dhampir was disgusted at his reaction but most of all, angry at her.

“That was incredibly stupid,” he whispered.

His hand let go of her shoulder and his gaze wandered down to her lips and the pink trail left behind by the drop. It was there, a rich crimson, glistening on her neck like a jewel. With his thumb, he collected it and carried it to his tongue. It was everything he remembered but with the sting of adrenaline. Her heart rate was decreasing, and she stood expressionless, staring at his mouth.

“Go clean up. You have work to do.”

Lexi did not rush out as he expected. She took her time to exit the room, enter her own and get the water running in her bathroom. Quinlan felt like yelling or punishing her somehow. The Dhampir shook his head at the memory of her knee swinging at him and his anger diminished. _So pointless._

 By the time he came back from the kitchen, she was at her desk. His throat radiated heat more than usual after he had filled himself with blood. The woman’s face was controlled and impassive again.

“Quinlan…” she started, sighed and turned to him.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded in acceptance and felt deeply satisfied by this turn of event. Quinlan stifled the purr that wanted to creep up. Her eyes narrowed and she stood.

“But…I know you’re stronger than me. You don’t need to demonstrate it.”

His satisfaction turned sour. The desire to purr vanished.

“No, I don’t,” he replied.

He had simply _wanted_ to _._ Quinlan folded his arms over his large chest and masked his growing irritation. She was not done speaking.

“Once again, I cannot make you do anything but…” she said.

A rattle vibrated in his neck.

“…don’t touch me like that again.”

She turned away from him and sat back down.

“Please,” she added.

Lexi put her headset on, and music built a wall around her as she continued working. Quinlan stood still for a long time. He did not need to sit to focus on his thoughts. The scene replayed in his mind over and over again. Was that really just anger in her struggling and her hits? The more he focused on her face in those memories the clearer it appeared. It was rage directed at her helplessness. It was desperation in the ineffective blows that he had found so amusing. Quinlan had toyed with her like a cat with its prey. His reason had been that he _could._

Should he then fault her for using the only thing which could have distracted him? Vulnerability was a feeling he had not had to experience in several lifetimes. But guilt was an all too familiar friend. He cringed at the memory of his laughter. It had been mocking of her distress. “ _You don’t have to be kind…but you don’t need to be cruel.”_

Quinlan had been cruel because he did not tolerate disobedience. Because of his _ego_. As if others, victims of their frailty, were not entitled to their own pride. _How puerile_. It had been unfair to use his superior strength for his own amusement. It had been a _violation._ His head fell in shame. Lexi stood and removed her headset. Music still pounded out of the small speakers.

“It works,” she announced without a look in his direction.

Because of the flatness of her voice, the meaning escaped him for a moment.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“I scraped everything and started from scratch. It means using three devices instead of one but it works. We don’t even need to get more materials. We just divide what we have between the three.”

She closed the laptop and the processor inside shut down with a murmur. The music stopped. Lexi turned to him but avoided his eyes.

“I had the idea while punching the bag.”

Light footsteps headed away and her bedroom door closed shut. _What a fool._

 

* * *

 

For the next week, Lexi had tossed and turned in her bed at night. The sluggishness of sleep deprivation was back, and she was making mistakes while drawing the updated schematics and building the devices. Errors were met with a blank stare because caring required too much of an effort. There were no outbursts of frustration or creativity. Quinlan worried that he had taken the only thing which permitted her some peaceful sleep: her trust in him.

 On the seventh night, he laid on his bed and listened. She had been stirring for two hours with increasing unrest. The Dhampir scowled when she whimpered. Her footstep smacked the concrete to her door and echoed in the large control room. The woman stood at his door.

He felt a wave of relief until her heartbeat accelerated and the door remained closed. Quietly, she walked back to her own bed. Quinlan growled and jumped to his feet, making himself as loud as possible. He had no intention to startle her but this was becoming too much for him to bear. She sat up when he entered her room. Her expressions were always less controlled in the dark. Did she not realize that he could see her just as clearly as in plain daylight? Lexi’s eyes were wide open and her mouth slightly agape.

“I can help you sleep,” he said.

She chewed her tongue. Quinlan expected a negative retort, but she remained quiet. Finally, the woman scooted toward the wall to give him space. He laid with slow and measured movements.

Usually, she would crawl to him in the dark while he did not move a muscle. Quinlan was not quite sure why this time he guided her to his chest. Instead of crossing his fingers on his nape, he put a hand on her shoulder and the other on his core. The fluttering of her heart entered a slow and enthralling rhythm.

Hair tickled the swirls of his neck, and he flattened the strands while enjoying their softness. The smell of her skin under the soap and shampoo became very strong, and he breathed deeply. He had missed it. Immediately, he felt guilty at the discovery. Was he doing this for his own satisfaction or to help her? She still resented him for that preposterous display of force the week before. His heart accelerated slightly. Quinlan had not apologized for his actions. Pride had not prevented him from making amends. The fear of her rejection had kept him from breaching the subject. Perhaps she would be open to it now.

“That day in the gym…” he whispered.

Lexi tensed which displeased him greatly.

“I apologize. I was cruel to you…It will not happen again. _I promise_.”

Her cheek was pressed against his chest, and he felt her smile forming. The torment of his own mind lifted instantly. Lexi’s small fist closed tighter on the fabric of his shirt and to his amazement, she nuzzled him before settling down. His sudden satisfaction triggered a low purr from within his throat. She inhaled sharply and put her hand flat above his heart. Then higher toward the pit between his collarbones. Curiosity was pushing her to the source of this rumbling. She pressed lightly against the delicate indentations on his throat. The purr intensified, and he found himself enjoying her touch.

The inquisitive digits traced the swirls slowly. Quinlan’ eyes shut and his lips parted. His mind slipped out of his control. For a fraction of a second, he imagined the sensation of her lips on the very skin she was caressing.

Quinlan’s heart went into a frantic rush and the purr subsided. He reached for the offending hand, enclosed it kindly but firmly in his own and deposited it on his chest. He did not let go, so she would not be tempted to try that again. The small fist closed on his thumb and his purring started again. It took a minute for him to calm down fully.

When she fell asleep, he allowed himself to think about his precarious situation. Letting this happen had been a mistake. Not just her hand on his skin but the very first time she had crawled to him with exhausted and begging eyes.

The end was so very close. He could imagine it so easily in his mind’s eye. All the pieces falling into place. This would just complicate things unnecessarily. He needed to get up, return to his room and refuse her if she ever came again.

Quinlan did not go. Instead, he rested his hand on the smooth skin of her nape. Blood rushed a mere centimeter away, but he ignored its appeal and plunged his fingers into the brown strands. It felt rich and warm against his palm. Her scent hit him, and he craned his neck toward it. Then he stopped and put his hand back on her shirt. What a fool he was.

 

The next day, two completed devices laid on the floor of the infirmary, and she was working on the third with renewed efficiency. As she had explained, this one would be crucial and would ultimately collect data they might need to improve the system. Quinlan assisted her in holding tools or pieces. The Dhampir stared at the woman and the nature of that gaze filled him with shame. It was the shame of doing something he knew to be wrong but not wrong enough to compel him to stop. She bent above the device while facing him.

“Here and here”- she pointed -“I don’t have the right bit so I have to use a screwdriver. Can you hold it please?”

Quinlan crouched and held a mess of wires and circuitry still while she secured it. The shirt she wore was too large and gaped at the neck. The Dhampir’s eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of her naked skin through the loose collar. He looked down, but the view turned more obvious when she shifted to the next screw. Temptation took over and he glanced up again. Her breasts enclosed in a tight bra swayed with every twisting movement. He would detach his eyes in a second… She was busy and would not notice… It was at eye level, so he really had little choice… She shifted to the next screw and her arms pressed on each side of her chest. His heart jumped against his ribs. The plastic handle of a screwdriver bumped the top of his head. He looked up into large hazel eyes.

“Focus!” she said while waving the tool in front of his nose.

Then she giggled and continued her work. Quinlan was mortified. The Dhampir had been caught red-handed and the embarrassment stunned him into silence. Lexi looked at his face and whatever she saw there made her laugh out loud.

“Relax, it’s fine!” she said and her smile turned compassionate.

“I…I’m sorry…I…”

He stopped there because he had no justification to offer.

“Well, you’re human too after all.”

Lexi shrugged and placed the next bit of electronics in place. Quinlan smiled at her statement because it gave him hope. He caught himself. _Hope for what?_ That she would ignore his monstrous nature? A mere week ago he had tasted her blood in front of her tearing eyes. That thought twisted his stomach painfully. He regretted that day so very much.

“We can start collecting…heads…soon,” she said taking breaths with each twisting motion.

This was more comfortable territory for him, and he relaxed.

“We shall travel far enough to avoid attracting undue attention on this facility.”

She nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we should pick up on the training a little more. So I don’t get myself killed…like a moron.”

Quinlan shifted his weight uncomfortably. Fighting, combat training, tactical planning were all within the range of his comfort zone. Right in the middle, as a matter of fact. However, since that day in the gym and the previous night, the idea appeared more…complicated. Still, she was right.

“Very well,” he said as soon as she had finished with the last screw.

“Very well, what?”

“We can start a training session right now.”

Her brow was shiny with sweat, and she was breathing quickly from all this manual labor.

“Now but…?”

“You are tired?” he asked.

“Yes…”

“Good. One rarely starts a fight while feeling completely refreshed.”

Lexi considered his statement and nodded reluctantly. The lesson lasted one hour during which she pushed her body harder than usual. She had made clear progress from that first time three months prior. Still, Quinlan found himself frustrated at her physical weakness. She ate enough to be healthy but not enough to build stronger muscles. He could feel it with each of her blows. For the first time, Quinlan worried not for the sake of the mission, but for her.

 

 


	7. Beings out of place

Lexi snickered as she loaded the devices into the back of the truck. Each of them was the size of a carry-on luggage. A horrified Quinlan caught staring at her chest, was the most hilarious scene she had witnessed since before the Fall. It was an image that had popped up in her mind often for the last three days.

In turn, the Dhampir placed his own cargo in the vehicle. A sack of weapons and a cooler of blood. They also brought tools to crack open the skulls they planned on acquiring as well as Lexi’s personal bag. Her smile did not fade quickly enough, and he took notice.

“Care to share what you find so amusing?”

“No,” she replied shamelessly and got into the passenger seat.

Quinlan’s brow furrowed and stayed that way for the first hour of their silent journey. They would need to drive the entire day and then spend the night somewhere halfway between the bunker and Chicago.

They needed nine brains to finish the devices. Near the Windy City they would search until they could find enough Strigoi to relieve of their pates. All the while hiding Quinlan from them because the Master probably still thought him dead. Lexi might have found the prospect of hunting the hunters rather amusing if it would not have been so damn terrifying.

Full of confidence in his marksmanship, Quinlan had assured her that they would be able to keep a safe distance. He planned on shooting through their cervical bones to decapitate them internally. Lexi trusted him but it did not stop her from dreading the next morning.

 

The companions took roads that appeared as unused as possible. They also avoided any and all human presence. Throughout the day, they only stopped twice. When the sun bled on the horizon, their truck parked in a small wood by a narrow river. The temperatures were still low but Lexi insisted on bathing in the running waters.

“You will get sick. This is rather unreasonable,” said Quinlan after she had told him of her intentions.

“I don't want to stink and attract Strigoi tomorrow. If they can smell me, it will be harder to avoid detection.”

“I assure you, you do not stink.”

The white of his cheeks deepened, and Lexi stared in fascination. Was he _blushing_?

“I don't care what you think. I'm going and if you don't want an eyeful I suggest you turn away.”

He crossed his arms, and stood, stubbornly facing her. _Oh no, you don't play chicken with ME._ Lexi was many things, but prude was not one of them. While studying in a parisian university, she had earned beer money posing nude for art students. Her jacket fell on the hood of the truck. Quinlan stared on. Then her sweater joined it, but she still wore a tank top. The Dhampir grinned, quite confident that she would stop there. Lexi offered him her most devilish smile and lifted the hem of her shirt above her head, obscuring him from view. When she could see again, Quinlan faced the other way.

“Ha!” she screamed triumphantly then guffawed as she took her backpack with her to the river bank.

“Why must you be so childish?” asked the Dhampir still looking away.

He placed his fists on his hips and shook his head.

“Why must you be so childish?” retorted Lexi with a decent imitation of his accent.

For good measure she added a raspy growl. The woman was unsure whether the Dhampir would have averted his gaze the first week they had met. Her ablutions did not last longer than strictly necessary. She splashed water on her entire body and dunked her hair under the surface once. Then she shivered madly while soaping every inch of her skin and shampooing her head. A gasp escaped her lips when she plunged into the waters. Immediately, her legs and arms went numb. Like a cat having fallen in a bathtub, she scrambled out. She dried herself with a small towel. Her fresh clothes were cold but at least they stopped the bite of the wind. When she walked to him, Quinlan was crouching by a burgeoning fire.

“How do I smell now?” she asked and sat in the warmth.

“Like a frog.”

His upper lip retracted in disgust. Lexi laughed once more, reassured that amphibians were probably not appetizing to Strigoi. She ate a cold dinner before the sun disappeared completely. Then Quinlan killed the fire, so it would not attract attention.

The only part of the truck long enough to allow a person to lie down was a combination of the trunk and folded back seats. Unfortunately, only a small surface was not occupied by their cargo. To her annoyance, the Dhampir started by insisting that he spend the night outside the vehicle.

“I will NEVER fall asleep then!” said Lexi and she worried she would be exhausted during such a dangerous mission.

This seemed to change his mind, and he complied. She lied against him, covered by his heavy wool coat. The thudding of his heart lulled her to sleep right away.

 

Lexi jolted awake. The light was the dirty grey preceding dawn. Outside the truck, dried leaves ruffled and branches cracked. Something big was moving. She tensed like a spring.

“It is just a bear. You can go back to sleep,” he whispered in her ear.

The woman relaxed but the bolt of adrenaline left her shaky. Noises grew nearer, and Quinlan did not appear to care. A bear was probably just an exotic snack for him. Her curiosity for anything alive made her unable to resist looking. Holding the sturdy fabric over her shoulders, she sat up. Her breath got stuck in her chest. This was not the black bear she expected to find. She knew her mouth hung open stupidly but she remained frozen, observing the animal. Then still looking outside, she reached for Quinlan’s hands and pulled. He did not move.

“Please…take a look and tell me I’m not hallucinating.”

Her companion relented and when his face reached the window, his mouth also opened in bewilderment. The cream-colored animal was twice the size of his local cousins. It sniffed the air around the camp and turned away promptly.

“It must have escaped from a zoo,” she whispered as the polar bear trotted away.

It was thin but not yet starving. Never in her life had she seen such a deadly animal up close. The words fascinating, dangerous and beautiful all came to her mind. Smiling, she turned to Quinlan and stopped breathing again. His face in the diffuse glow showed child-like wonder. She observed his proud nose and sharp cheekbones. He was just as fascinating and dangerous as the bear. Just as beautiful.

The woman suddenly felt very conscious of how inappropriate it was for her to straddle his thighs. She thought about his staring down her shirt and his purr when her fingers had touched his neck. Exactly _how much_ of him was human?

The small heart thudded violently. She pressed her forearms against her chest to muffle its music. Her face and ears were on fire. Quinlan’s clear eyes veered in her direction. Lexi froze in embarrassment. Excruciatingly slowly, he turned and looked straight at her heart. Quinlan blinked, then stared into her eyes. As she was about to look away, his gaze traveled to her lips. Lexi knew that look. She had seen it many times on other men, and it usually ended the same way. With them leaning closer for a kiss.

Her heartbeat got louder. She avoided his eyes until he lied back down and his face disappeared in the obscurity. The woman imitated him. It was insane to think that this could be on his mind. Then a nagging voice in the back her mind asked a very pertinent question: _What would you have done if he_ _had_ _leaned forward?_

She stopped herself. It was unacceptable to entertain such thoughts while huddled against him. Suddenly, she questioned the unspoken terms of their arrangement. Was it really acceptable for her chest to press against his ribs? Or for her leg to rest on his? Overly aware of her own body, she kept adjusting her position to something that might feel more appropriate. After ten minutes of this, his arms closed around her and he squeezed.

“Quit this incessant fidgeting!”

The tone was exasperated, but she could detect a hint of amusement. When she looked up, there was a smile on his grey lips.

 

Lexi had a shallow rest after the encounter with the bear. She had indeed stopped shifting position every few seconds but her mind had remained restless. This sleeping arrangement had become too awkward and she promised herself that once they were back at the compound, it would cease.

Maybe she could adopt some of the late Dr. Goodweather’s habits and self-medicate with a shot of liquor. It always knocked her right out. No. It had. When she was happy and safe, ignorant of the existence of Strigoi. She considered listening to the recordings of a heartbeat to trick herself to sleep. Anything to drown out this unnerving feeling that she was in constant mortal danger. Once they were back, she would try all of this.

They had to drive another two hours to the outskirts of Chicago. Her thoughts were on the doctor whose notes were the reason they carried on this mission.

“What happened to the doctor? To Goodweather?” she asked, breaking the silence which was their usual atmosphere while driving.

“He passed away shortly after the nuclear weapon detonated in New York.”

“You told me you and your friends failed that day and I kinda get that they are dead but you didn’t tell me exactly _how._ ”

Lexi could tell this was not a subject he would enjoy discussing.

“The Master was in the coffin, and we had reached the shore when the explosion occurred. The blast swept us away, and the coffin broke open, releasing the Master. I came out of it uninjured but mister Fet, professor Setrakian and miss Velders were not as fortunate. They died instantly.”

“The doctor was not with you, he was with the boy, right? Why did he die?”

“His son had fled in the city and Dr. Goodweather chased after him. He searched the streets for several hours.”

Lexi already knew what he was about to say but remained quiet.

“I found him as he made his way back to his base of operations. By that time, it was too late for him. Over the next three days, he became ill and eventually passed.”

And Ephraim would have known exactly what was happening to him. The curse of the physician. Lexi grimaced. Through his notes, she had developed a certain familiarity with the man and hearing that he had died of radiation poisoning was horrible.

“Despite his sickness, he insisted on recovering the bodies of our associates and burying them. The coffin was gone when we found them. Then he put his notes in order and onto a unique hard drive.”

“Do you think his son is still alive?”

“I hope he is not.”

That brat had killed millions and ultimately murdered his own father because of a damn tantrum.

“Yeah…I get why.”

Silence fell on the vehicle again. Lexi stared at the landscapes and the overcast. That little fucker _better_ be dead.

“Then you stayed alone for a year? No other associates?”

“Correct.”

“And then you found me. You got lucky with that. You’d probably be Strigoi chow by now.”

Quinlan smirked and gave her a look.

“Your lack of humility is superb.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Lexi returned his smile.

 

Most houses at the edges of the Windy City had been abandoned. People had been forced to pile up in the downtown area as it made them easier to control. The Dhampir scrolled down his window and inhaled deeply as they drove through a disaffected residential area. Everywhere, they were met with broken windows, dead lawns and abandoned cars. Like a bloodhound, he tracked the smell of Strigoi nesting. A single one might have been hard to detect but as they aggregated, their stench magnified. Quinlan parked and closed his eyes tightly. After thirty seconds he shook his head.

“There are at least twenty here. It would be excessive to lure that many outside.”

By “excessive”, Lexi was acutely aware that he meant “dangerous” for her. Fed, rested and armed, twenty Strigoi were not much of a challenge for the Dhampir. They drove away and repeated this scene five more times, sometimes circling back to stay away from the city limits.

It would soon be midday and they would need shelter. Even if he could endure those few hours of sunlight, they remained painful for Quinlan. At the sixth nest, Quinlan drove away only to return by another route and keep a safe distance.

“There are ten inside.”

Lexi’s fists closed tightly on her knees and she nodded. It was showtime. She put on her ski mask, goggles and dog collar.

“I will be at that window. I suggest you do not wait for the first Strigoi to exit. Just take the truck and leave.”

The plan was simple enough. Quinlan would shoot them from the opposite house. Her only contribution would be to ring the doorbell and smash bags of blood on the street. The smell would drive them out as surely as the commotion. It would also distract them. Then she would drive away and come back when the gunshots stopped. Just a glorified ding-dong-ditch, really.

“Please, be prudent,” he said and disappeared in a blur.

“You too,” she replied, quite positive that he could still hear her.

Lexi placed two bags of blood in her deep pockets, adjusted the driver’s seat and breathed. She parked on the sidewalk opposite the nest and checked her weapons. Gun, loaded, all good. Machete, present and honed obsessively by Quinlan. She left the key on the ignition and the door open. Lexi ran. There were barely any coherent thoughts in her mind, just a continuous scream.

  _HAAAAAAAAAA. I really hope I still smell like frog. HAAAAAAAAAA._

The button was right there, by the door. She pressed it frantically. Nothing happened. Somehow, it had been disconnected or that house simply did not have power. Lexi pounded the door, kicking and yelling. Then she turned away and tossed the first bag. It exploded and its contents spread on the asphalt. The second bag bounced and rolled. _Fuck._ She punted it and it ruptured, splattering blood on her boots.

Never looking back, she got into the truck and drove away. In the distance, gunshots made her exhale in deep relief. Her entire body shook from the adrenaline. The shooting stopped after merely seconds. It had sounded like a dozen rounds or so. She drove back and was welcomed by carnage. Ten Strigoi laid dead on the road, the sidewalk, and the lawns. Some were naked, and others sported disgusting tattered clothes. She counted them again and exited the truck, already drawing her machete to prepare for the head cutting. The tip-tap of rapid footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned to them with a grin.

“You did…”

It was not Quinlan. The stinger grazed her collared neck. Her move had been purely automatic. A reflex acquired from the countless times the Dhampir had projected his own stinger at her. The fighting stance came just as naturally. That Strigoi had been a woman only slightly taller than Lexi. Its once blue shirt was torn, revealing deflated breasts and dirty skin. That thing had run down the street from another part of the neighborhood.

_It followed the fucking blood from my shoes_. Hissing, the Strigoi prepared for another assault. Lexi was ready. When the stinger came, she swerved and sliced it clean off. With a wet smack, the appendage dropped to the ground. The creature screeched and dry-heaved as the blade swung toward its neck. An instant before the machete decapitated the creature, it spat at Lexi. Everything turned white. The goggles were covered with thick blood and wriggling worms. Lexi stopped breathing and grabbed the top of the balaclava. Strong fists closed on her fingers and forced them down. The hood came off and so did her jacket. Quinlan moved with frightening precision. Picking at the few straggling worms one by one _._

Time was suspended. A thin, hair-like filament had latched on her naked forearm. _So this is how it ends?_ Her hand reached for it. It had already buried half its revolting body into hers. Quinlan’s fingers caught it and pulled it free. Lexi was suddenly freezing cold. The only color left in her world was that drop of blood where the worm had dug.

“They are all gone,” said the Dhampir but she did not listen.

Lexi picked up her weapons and ran to the truck. There she tossed the gun and machete in the trunk and extracted her other change of clothes. She stripped completely naked and examined her entire body for other bite marks. Nothing. The old clothes she abandoned on the road, then dressed quickly. She expected to feel something crawling inside her flesh at any moment. _You were about to die._

Quinlan was already halfway through collecting the heads. _You were about to become one of them._ Eyes wide, she fumbled for that dark room in the back of her mind but she could not focus. Every time she almost gained that serene state she imagined something moving under her skin, and the dark room sprang away. Her chest tightened impossibly. She could not breathe. White dots spread across her field of vision. Lexi slapped her plexus, desperate for the constriction to loosen. She dropped to her knees. Quinlan crouched beside her, but she could not afford to pay attention. There was nothing to slash or shoot, what could he possibly do?

“Lexi.”

His voice was eerily calm. The white fingers closed on each side of her face, forcing her to look into the ice-blue eyes.

“Breathe.”

Lexi whimpered.

“Listen to me…You will be fine. I cannot see them under your skin. Everything will be fine. You are safe.”

The Dhampir lifted her body and cradled her. His embrace was crushing. When he pressed his forehead against hers and whispered continuously, her lungs unclenched. Lexi took a long deep breath. Then she buried her face against his adorned throat and cried. The Dhampir carried her to the vehicle. He sat at the wheel, still hugging her. With one arm, Quinlan started the truck and drove away. Only then did she notice that he had never stopped whispering: "You will be fine. All is well. Everything will be fine..."

 

When they parked, Lexi recognized the landscape. This had been their camp the night before. Where they had witnessed the ghostly apparition of a being out of place. Her tears had dried up and the trembling subsided. She peeled herself off of Quinlan and got out.

Lexi was ashamed. She had lost control of her emotions and body right in the middle of a Strigoi infested suburb. She was a goddamn liability. Disgusted with herself, she sprinted to the river and splashed her face until numb.

Then she sat and worked on calming herself. Breathing would never be taken for granted again. Lexi closed her eyes and reached for the black room. It was there, accessible, easy to open and close. This would also never be taken for granted. _Urg_. She needed to apologize. He had to baby her for Christ's sake. She slapped her cheeks which were anesthetized by the cold. Lexi stood, turned around and bumped against Quinlan. The woman slipped on the wet grass, but he caught her arms before she could fall into the river. _Not again!_ She righted herself and spoke.

“I'm sorry. I really...I panicked. I'm sorry you had to...”

“You achieved everything that was required of you.”

She shook her head.

“No...I broke down.”

Lexi cringed at the words.

“You defended yourself admirably. Few people would have been able to dodge such a sudden attack.”

She was still incredulous.

“You have the right to...let go...once the danger has passed,” he added.

Of all people, she did not expect the Dhampir to use euphemisms.

“Thank you, but the danger had not passed. We were in the middle of Strigoi territory.”

“Since I was right there with you, you were no longer under any threat.”

Lexi's mouth gaped. She had no reply to this because she believed him. It was the reason she had decided to join the fight against the Master. It was also the reason she could sleep at night when pressed against him. Quinlan was the most dangerous creature around, and he meant her no harm. No, more than that. For the mission, he meant to protect her.

“Thank you, Quinlan. I mean it. Thank you.”

The Dhampir accepted her gratefulness with a slow nod. For a crazy moment, she was tempted to hug him. _What is wrong with you?_

“Let's crack those skulls open. If some are unusable, we can drive to another city and get more.”

With the benefit of gloves and a UV lamp plugged into the car, they extracted the precious brains. They were unlike anything Lexi had seen before. Black veins of decay cursed through them and their center was composed of a swirling orb of worms.

After two hours, all nine of them were placed inside the devices. The controls indicated a closed circuit, meaning that all the grey organs were functional. After some calibration, they would be able to test them.

“Let's head back. It's over,” said Lexi.

They drove until the dreaded darkness and stopped in a forlorn farmhouse. Lexi closed herself alone in one of the bedrooms and attempted to sleep. She did not go to him that night. Despite his words, she was still ashamed. When dawn came, she sighed in relief.


	8. A leap of faith

 

 

Her first action back at the bunker was to take a scalding shower. She was fine. All _was_ well. The phantom worming sensations had ceased. Body and mind were once again aligned and had concluded that had she been infected, she would already have shown symptoms. Today she would not look at the brains again. She needed to look at something innocent and _good._

Lexi headed directly to the garden. Quinlan was nowhere to be seen when she crossed the control room. At the lower level, she soon realized she had neglected her food providers far too long. Enough lemons had matured for her to prepare a new batch of jam. The tomatoes plants had developed uncontrollably. Useless side stalks had grown and stolen resources away from the ripening fruits. Other concerns such as spreading fertilizer and repotting also jumped to her attention.

She sang to herself while gathering all fruits and vegetables that could be harvested. Proud, she lifted the basket full of colorful deliciousness to estimate their weight. It was extremely satisfying. The elevator lifted then as it came back down she wondered what the Dhampir could possibly want. She dropped the basket and waited. In one hand he carried a bowl and with the other, he was placing sunglasses over his sensitive eyes.

“Lunch.”

Quinlan said and placed the warm dish between her fingers. It was oatmeal with a generous dollop of lemon jam.

“Thank you. I will eat it later.”

“I will assist so that you may eat presently.”

Lexi smiled, both grateful and amused.

“I was going to repot those and clear out the tomato stalks.”

She sat on the concrete against the potted lemon tree. Quinlan did not seem as inexperienced as she had imagined. He did not destroy the plants which needed repotting but accomplished a remarkable job. Probably cleaner than she would have managed herself. When he approached the tomatoes and cocked his head to the side, she joined him and quietly started removing the useless green sprouts from the thicker branches. He imitated her, and Lexi enjoyed that moment of peaceful collaboration.

“You’ve had a garden before, haven’t you?”

“I had land. A long time ago.”

The woman desired nothing more than to ask all the questions this response inspired. He continued speaking unprompted.

“After finishing my career in the Roman army, I took a family and was granted land.”

Lexi did not speak. She was afraid to interrupt him. That her voice might lock his words away forever. How would he have a family?

“It did not last long, but I learned about farming.”

Lexi perceived the sadness in that sentence. Suddenly, she did not want to know more. It was selfish to wish to satisfy her curiosity about his past if that caused him pain.

“The Master killed them before their time.”

She stopped plucking at the plants. Lexi turned to him but still held her tongue. She also controlled her face as best as she could. Quinlan did not need to feel pitied.

“I know you always wondered where my motivation to destroy him originated. It is very simple: vengeance.”

Quinlan tore two more stalks and faced her.

“Does it bother you?” he asked.

Lexi shook her head.

“Not even a little.”

The Dhampir scowled. He did not believe her. As if he had a monopoly on holding grudges.

“After my father remarried briefly, I still wanted to hurt him for all he had done. I did not care about his new wife and if he also mistreated her. I just wanted him to pay.”

“Did you ever get your revenge?”

“Not exactly as I had wished but close enough.”

She headed to the fertilizer bags and Quinlan followed. They continued talking while tending to the plants. Lexi learned that the Dhampir had been a slave and had fought as a gladiator. He told her of all the languages he had mastered over two millennia, and she listened with enchantment.

By the time they got back to the control room, her fresh clothes were marred with dirt and sap. Quinlan’s vest and waxed denim pants were also dirty. She smiled at the idea of needing a change of clothes for such a wholesome reason. No blood or worms, just fertile soil. The rest of that day, she thought about his words. She wondered what life had been like for the women with whom he had shared a home.

 

* * *

 

That night she fell asleep in her own bed to his guilty dismay. Memories of the previous day tried to plague him. This single minute had been pure horror. Between the moments he had seen the Strigoi covering her with filth and when he had yanked that abomination out her skin. The Dhampir shuddered at how close he had been to have to kill her. It made him sick.

He forced himself to reminisce about less painful events. Lexi’s adorable flushed face and futile attempts at masking her heartbeats filled him with contentment. The sound of her breathing in the next room lulled him into deep relaxation. Quinlan drifted in a state between consciousness and sleep.

She screamed herself awake. The woman sobbed and stumbled to her bathroom. Water splashed and the sounds of her distress echoed louder in the tiled room. Quinlan sat up. She needed help. Then he stopped himself. She could feel resentment at being spied upon. The Dhampir forced himself to lie down again. Lexi was an adult and did not need him. Another nightmare would soon be forgotten.

His companion did not return to bed but instead made her way to his door. Quinlan grinned. Standing there so close, she suppressed another sob and turned away. _Not this again!_ He wanted her to come back, he wanted her presence and the softness of her body. And he wanted her lips against his. Time slowed. He flew across the room and reached the handle before she could take another step.

_You should not do this._ The voice of reason was particularly irritating. Quinlan countered with a simple: _To hell with reason_.

The door opened and she swirled back, startled.

_Stop, you fool._

“I’m sorry I woke…”

Quinlan took her hand and pulled her through the door. His grip was loose, she could free herself and turn away.

_Just let it go._

Her fingers tightened on his. Quinlan stopped walking and faced her. Wet trails ran down her cheeks. He wiped one of them, and her eyes widened in surprise.

_Why are you doing this?_

Of course, she would be surprised. Had he ever given any indication that he could be tender? She had not been privy to his thoughts, just his actions. Lexi knew nothing of his desire to smell her skin or of his pleasure every time her face pressed against his heart.

To her, he was just a brute who barely tolerated her presence. From her own mouth, she found him cruel. That thought made his throat tighten. Now he resented the astonishment because it was entirely his fault. That surprise grew when he stepped closer and wiped her other cheek. His thumb traced the fullness of her lower lip to remove a non-existent tear.

_Damnatus_.

Lexi leaned into his touch and her heartbeat flew into a lovely crescendo. The open door let in the glow of computer screens. She scrutinized his face, and he wondered what she could possibly be looking for.

“Quinlan?”

He was close enough to see the curve of each of her eyelashes and the humidity which still clung to them.

“Yes?”

His voice ended in a soft purr.

“What are you doing?” she murmured very lowly.

“This.”

Both his hands cupped her face, and he leaned down. When their lips touched, she gasped and backed away. Lexi stared at his mouth. That hurt. Her getting away from him.

_She doesn’t want you, you simpleton._

Had she refused him? The thin hand clasped his nape and pulled him closer. This time it was not a simple brush of lips. She tasted him carefully and he responded in kind. Quinlan controlled the instinct to produce inhuman noises and hugged her tight. The hollow of her neck welcomed his face. The Dhampir wanted to nibble the smooth skin. To taste her. The fear of reminding her of his nature kept him back.

Instead, he nuzzled the naked flesh just under her ear. Lexi pressed against him and this made his so very… _happy._ He kissed his way to the base of her collarbone. His tongue brushed her slightly. An attempt at satisfying the urge to savor her. Lexi inhaled sharply at that contact. The need became poignant, so he took her lips again.

At the beginning, her tongue remained shyly back but soon grew brave. Maintaining his own firmly closed, he enticed her for more. When she broke the kiss, he felt like he could have continued for hours. Lexi smiled and only then did he notice that her left canine was slightly crooked. He regretted not seeing this smile more often.

Her digits ran down his throat, and he shivered at what was coming. Like that night, just imagining her lips on his throat sent his heart into a frenzy. Quinlan had not anticipated her warm breath on the swirls or that tongue tracing their outline. He certainly did not expect her teeth grazing him.

The zipper of his pants became uncomfortably tight. _Would she notice that?_ Her body was so close and she pulled even closer. The softness of her chest was pressing against him. _How could she not notice?_ When she became more confident and sucked on his skin gently, he snarled. He needed more. Quinlan lifted her and grinned when her thighs pressed on each side of his waist. She giggled into his ear _._

The Dhampir walked to the bed and sat to free his hands. Under the loose shirt, he caressed the firmness of her waist and back. There was a scar between her shoulder blades which had once been hidden by hair. He would ask her later. She hugged him and brushed against the bulging denim.

“Oh!” she whispered, and he took the lips now stretched into a mischievous smile.

He enjoyed the oversized t-shirts and how much the collar stretched. He kissed everything available to his mouth. To his amazement, she removed the cumbersome garment. Prudent, he stared into her eyes, waiting for confirmation that he could touch her. The way he so wanted to. Her expression was inviting him. This time he could not stop himself from biting, ever so gently, the roundness of her breasts. She breathed rapidly, and her hips moved against him. The tightness turned unbearable. He undid the button and the zipper became undone.

Quinlan groaned in disappointment when she stood. Lexi lifted the hem of his sweater and threw the piece of clothing away. Then she pulled the denim free of his hips. He did not expect her to take such an initiative but relished it. The pants fell around his ankles, and he kicked them off. She stood at the edge of the bed, between his legs. Her palms against his skin traced the stripes. She smiled when she realized where the ones on each of his flanks lead to.

He could smell her now, the humidity and warmth. The only things between him and that scent were sheer shorts. Quinlan cursed them. He gripped their edge with both hands and the fabric started tearing. Lexi’s chest shook with laughter, and he laughed with her at his own impatience.

Accepting his greediness, she pushed the shorts down and stepped out of them. The small woman pulled Quinlan up. Staring into his face, she slid his undergarments down. Quinlan closed his eyes when the freed erection fell against her skin. The small woman hugged him tightly and stretched for a kiss. His member was caught against her core and his. The pressure caused it to pulsate almost painfully.

Quinlan sat back down to counter her teasing. He grabbed the flesh of her thighs and made her straddle him again. Gently, he took a nipple in his mouth and tried to ignore the overwhelming attraction of her wetness. Quinlan had to wait. It had happened so fast, and he needed to restrain himself.

Apparently, she did not wish this. She reached between his legs and grabbed him. His fingers tightened on her. He froze against her chest. At this very moment, he did not know what to do and just fought to remain in control of his Strigoi voice. Lexi directed his member and he groaned when he felt the humid warmth on its tip.

_When had he started to wish for this very moment?_ _Was it when_ … His thoughts vanished when she lowered herself around him. There was no past or future, just the heat of her body. She stopped halfway down his length _._ His hands shook, and a very loud growl escaped him. _More!_

Lexi’s smile was taunting when she pulled herself up again. Panting slightly, she repeated her torture three more times. Something broke inside him.

“Please,” he whispered against her lips.

He tossed his pride aside and begged. Somehow, it did not feel wrong or demeaning. The woman sat down and welcomed all of him inside her. He exhaled in intense satisfaction. After that Quinlan got lost in the swaying of her hips.

The only shred of his conscious control was busy maintaining a firm muzzle on his snarls and growls. _To hell with the mission._ Her breathing was accelerating and blood rushing to the thin skin of her chest. _He would trade it all away to stretch this instant into another millennium._ Lexi’s moans grew louder. It was becoming difficult for Quinlan to resist the release.

She was still twitching around him when he flipped her on her back. He thought that maybe if less of her skin touched his that he would remain in control longer. Quinlan got a full view of her flushed breasts, her fists closing on the blanket and her gaze fixated on his. When he moved and her chest swayed in synchrony, he knew he had been sorely mistaken. The twitching around his member started again. _Too late._ When pleasure rippled through her core and she screamed, he gave up. He pressed against her firmly and clenched his teeth to prevent his stinger from bursting out. As waves of bliss rose from his crotch and flooded his body, his human voice took over and he whimpered.

_Please, gods, may this happen many more times_. He nuzzled and kissed her until her sluggishness deepened and she fell asleep in his pale arms. _When had he started to wish for that moment?_ When had the wanting started? He was a selfish fool. He breathed deeply into her wavy hair. A happy fool.

* * *

 

The perimeter alarm yanked her out of profound slumber. Muscle memory took over her body, she jumped out of bed and reached for the nearest weapon, Quinlan’s sword. It was too heavy and the bone hilt felt queer between her fingers. But she still took it. She ran to the control room. Every single time the alarm rang, she imagined the control room filled with screeching Strigoi. It made no sense but the loud blaring scratched at something deep and animalistic in her brain.

The room was empty save for a naked Quinlan who had just pressed a button and terminated the horn. Her chest heaved with a huge sigh of relief. The Dhampir was calm which meant that nothing dangerous was happening.

“What were you planning on doing with my sword?”

There was a genuine smile of amusement on his face, and he crossed his arms on his large chest. Lexi took in his exposed body with appreciation. The white skin was marbled with grey and the deep green of those strange markings. Those were not only visible on his face but also his abdomen and shoulders. Without the shadow of a doubt, she would one day draw him. He was remarkable.

“Why…defend myself of course!” she said with grandiloquence and attempted to raise the weapon further.

Her bicep shook with the effort. She let it fall carefully by her side and chuckled. Even if she trained for years, she would never have the power to wield it.

“I might place my bets on that raccoon.”

The sword clanged on the desk. She lacked the control to place it down more gently. On a monitor, the form of a large critter waddled lazily.

“Are you feeling ok, Quinlan?”

She caressed his arm with fake concern.

“Yes? Why?”

“You made a joke…that’s…”

He huffed and grabbed her hand.

“I do that every ten years or so.”

Lexi laughed again and felt warmth running down the side of her thigh. Unfortunately, he had _that_ in common with human men. She pulled away from him and ruffled her hair. Then Lexi headed to her bedroom, stretching her arms above her head.

“You can work on that comedy sketch while I shower!”

 

The water washed away the sweat and other remnants of the previous night. The events replayed in her mind and for once the memories did not hurt. It had seemed that everything lately was bound to end up shoved in the dark room but not this one. This one she would cherish because it warmed her very core. Other such memories had ended up spoiled. Those with _him_. But these were concerns for another day.

Today, she would be content with what little she had. Tomorrow she would focus on their mission. The suds slid down her legs and into the drain. Her hair had gotten wet at their very ends, but that would dry quickly.

Music started in her bedroom. For a crazy moment, she imagined Quinlan making the effort to install her laptop on the drawing table and peruse through song files. That would be…very unlike him. No, this did not come from the subpar speakers of her computer.

It did not surprise her that the Dhampir could play the piano so well. He had been alive for the entire period the instrument existed, after all. That tune she knew by heart and was quite certain that she had only practiced it once since Quinlan had arrived. The rendition was flawless. Her focus was such that it took her several minutes to dry her body. The Dhampir keyed on another song she did not recognize while she stood behind him. Lexi was close enough to feel the heat of his back. It was so very…sad. Just like she liked them. Happy songs were annoying. They rang fake to her ears. He stopped and leaned back onto her. She hugged his neck and kissed the top of his head.

“Did you know it before I played it?” she murmured.

The skin of her arms tickled from the vibrations of his throat.

“I did not. I thought you might like the other one as well.”

“I do…how did you know?”

“It is melancholic, like all the others. Why is that?” he asked.

He turned to face her.

“The light ones don’t resonate with me. They sound…wrong when I play them.”

Quinlan nodded and nuzzled her chest. This combined with the purring and pointy ears evoked the image of a large, hairless cat. The situation was eerie. Last night, he had blindsided her with his gentleness. Lexi had, of course, noticed his hungry gazes and how his heart had reacted to her stroking his skin. She knew physical desire and the animalistic need that had driven her and others into embraces. It did not require complicity or tenderness. Those were what she had expected him to give. Barely a variation of the daily sparring they already shared. Lexi expected him to try to dominate her. But it had not happened. Instead of satisfying another physical need through each other, he had gifted the warmth of intimacy.

There laid the main difference between this and all the physical connections they had shared before. She had given him blood because he had provided her with information and a reason to fight. Quinlan had trained her because she needed to defend herself and he wanted a self-sufficient associate. He had let her rest to the beating of his heart because he wanted her mind and body healthy for the mission. The affection he was showing did not serve a higher purpose; it was its own reward. Her throat tightened at the realization. She did not want to think about it right this moment.

“Your scar…on your back…how?”

Quinlan had abandoned his usually impeccable syntax. His hands ran across the goosebumps of her flesh. What scar was he talking about?

“I have a scar on my back?”

His fingers found the spot, between the bottoms of her shoulder blades. Probably the only square of skin she could not reach herself.

“Here.”

A memory slammed against the door of that dark room in her head.

“One day I’ll tell you. Promised. But today…”

She hugged him tighter. Today she would enjoy the unexpected present of his caresses.

“I am sorry,” he whispered between her breasts.

The movement of his lips tickled the sensitive skin.

“You couldn’t know about it. I have other scars whose origins are quite funny.”

“No…I am sorry about everything.”

Lexi cocked her head. What was he talking about?

“I’ve been so unkind to you since the very moment we met,” he said.

There was heavy regret in his voice. Quinlan looked up and her chest constricted painfully.

“My first words to you were a threat.”

_Ha. Stop talking._ She could not tell him that with that stone in her throat.

“I do not remember exactly when I turned so cold. For all the things I have said and done without regard for you…Please, forgive me.”

His voice was very low. Quinlan pressed his forehead against her plexus, averting his gaze in shame. Lexi breathed deeply to chase away the tears burning her eyes. The dark room was enticing her but its use should remain for things painful. She was not in distress, she was just overwhelmed. Even as he was offering his own vulnerability on a platter she was avoiding reciprocation. It was pointless and immature, so she let go. The small woman cried, her hands closing into tight fists against his back.

“I forgive you.”

He took her face into his large hands and kissed her.

 

* * *

 

That day they barely left her bedroom. For just those few hours, Quinlan allowed himself to forget about the rest of the world. When she fell asleep again, the feeling of duty crept back up. With that, guilt came as well. The Dhampir was acutely aware that across the centuries, his love had been a death sentence. The Master had made sure of it.

Was he deluding himself into believing that this time would be different? No, this time _would_ be different. It had to be. For the sake of his peace and sanity, the beast had to be imprisoned forever. For so long, he had been convinced that he would die with his progenitor. Now, he wanted what lied after the Master’s end. Locking him away had been their plan since he had met Lexi, it had not been motivated by selfish desires. Then _why_ was he feeling so guilty about it? Glutton for punishment, he scratched and pulled at those feelings. Desperate to understand why he felt so disgusted with himself for wanting a life with her.

_You know why._ It was preposterous. He felt guilty for settling with imprisoning the Master instead of outright killing him. _Killing him is impossible._ Then he remembered the fate of the rest of the Ancients. That was also ridiculous. He did not possess access to such destructive weapons. That powerful fire was out of reach and _nothing_ else compared. In the back of his head, a voice was accusing him of lying to himself. He ignored it and instead focused on the naked woman against him. In her arms, he dreamt of his time in Asia in the early 1880s and of a deafening sound.

* * *


	9. He sees you

The Strigoi roamed the camp and the couple spied. Her binoculars were barely good enough to distinguish blurry silhouettes. At this distance, even Quinlan had to squint to make them out. Finally, the moment of truth. Within moments they would know whether the devices could disturb the mental link between the Master and his creatures. Dr. Goodweather and Dutch Velders had worked relentlessly to create the original device, and their brilliant idea would not die with them. It had worked on the Master as well, making him weaker which had enabled Quinlan to shove him in the coffin. Just before that nuclear explosion had ruined everything.

Quinlan had placed the devices to include an isolated corner of the farm in the triangle they formed. If Lexi had done her job correctly, once the machines were activated, that area would become a trap for Strigoi. The Dhampir held the remote designed to activate them. Between two barracks, a blob of color was dragging another. It was headed straight for the triangle.

“Between buildings three and four,” Lexi whispered.

“Yes.”

They exchanged a look and he pressed the button. As she watched, the pale silhouette of the Strigoi stopped walking. The human it had been dragging did not attempt to run away though it could still move. As the seconds passed, it became obvious that this was not a mere coincidence. Quinlan deactivated the devices and the Strigoi walked on. Their efforts had just rewarded them with a first success.

“It works," she whispered.

The Dhampir nodded. No joy, satisfaction or pleasure on his face, just pure determination. Lexi rubbed her eyes as relief soothed some of the tension in her back. Quinlan retrieved the three transmitters. Without another word, they walked to the truck hidden downwind. The end of their mission was near. And it was good. In fact, it was the best news possible under those circumstances. But that final blow stood like a wall.

That wall was too massive for her to glance to the other side. She fought for her future and that of her species, but she could not imagine it. When would she be able to look ahead? As the Master was locked in a coffin? Or as that coffin sunk in the frigid ocean water? Probably never.

Lexi was quite convinced that she would die that day. That day, Quinlan would shove the monster into that box alone. The task seemed too huge to be achieved without a sacrifice. Lexi had always been a pessimist but even she surprised herself with those thoughts. The woman very much desired to live. He secured the machines in the trunk and distributed drops of blood to their biological components.

“Just another test, to see how far we can stretch the trap area. Then we can start looking for the Master,” she said as he took a seat.

A tentative grin and his eyes closed.

“Victory is within reach…I can sense it.”

Lexi smiled without meaning it. This place was weighing heavily on her mind, and she wanted them to leave and never return. It would take an entire day to go back to the bunker since they could not drive at night. The Strigoi tolerated the orange light, but they _thrived_ at night. Better leave it to them. Quinlan started the car and they drove away. The sun had almost disappeared at the horizon when he spoke again.

“You are not usually so taciturn,” he remarked.

It lifted her spirit a little that he thought of her as chatty. She really enjoyed silence but he acted like words cost him their weight in silver. A matter of relativity.

“I’m worried about the size of it all. It’s so much to bear. How have you been doing this for so long?”

Quinlan bit his glove off before tucking it away. The warm fingers found her hand and she kissed them. They smelled of leather.

“I focus on what I can do right now. One small achievable task at a time.”

He glanced at her face.

“At this very moment, I search for a secure location…we need to wait for dawn to continue.”

They stopped a few minutes later in a small, deserted town. Anything so close to a camp would have been cleared almost immediately after the Fall. Lexi detested those nights in the homes of strangers she knew were long dead. The only redeemable aspect was the instant Quinlan would hug her tight under the cover of a blanket. Only then could she ignore the unfamiliar surroundings and be at peace.

“Lexi?” he said just after closing his arms around her shoulders.

“Yes?”

“You never told me what you did…your work…before the Fall.”

The woman grinned then the longer she thought about it the more amusing it became.

“I studied the reproductive behavior of lizards.”

She peered at his face. A corner of his mouth had lifted, and he was frowning.

“What?” he finally said.

Lexi burst out laughing and tried to calm herself but this only resulted in her eyes filling with tears.

“But…the stitches?..All the...”

“I stitched a lot of rats, mice, and even hamsters during my studies.”

Quinlan shook his head. Lexi was ashamed of that fact. Their innocent lives had been wasted away for her to finish a degree she would never use again.

“Why not divulge his information before?”

Lexi grunted as she was sure that her answer would displease him.

“You only asked at the beginning…and I was certain that if you judged me incompetent you would ditch me or even drink me.”

It was his turn to laugh.

“You were mistaken. I had been convinced of your competence and usefulness within hours.”

He kissed her forehead then pulled her chin so their gaze would meet. Mischievous delight transformed his traits.

“I was tempted to drink you regardless… Because of how _irritating_ I found you.”

“Oh!”

Before she could retort some insult he kissed her. Then when she attempted to reply, he kissed her again. Then she gave up and melted into his hug. His caresses were pressing and his desire so commanding. She also wanted him desperately, but she felt so very exposed.

“Wait…maybe we should not here…it’s not safe.”

**“You are always safe with me.”**

The woman relaxed for at that very moment, she did not doubt those words. She unzipped his vest, and they enjoyed each other’s embrace.

 

During the night, Quinlan shook her awake. The reptilian part of her psyche kicked into hyperdrive. Quinlan would never wake her that way unless…

“Cars are coming!” he yelled.

But she was already in her boots and pulling her pants up. She cringed when he scooped her up and ran to the truck. Last time, he had held her so strongly that her skin had bruised. When she finally managed to lock her seatbelt, he started the truck and barreled down the road. Much, much too fast. Their vehicle was practical and not meant for high speeds. It struggled as the engine roared abnormally.

_“Deodamnatus_!” Snarled the Dhampir.

The cars appeared behind them at the end of a curve. On the now straight country road, they were gaining on them every second. Panic crept inside Lexi. No car lights. Just like Quinlan, they did not need them. Pondering their identities or motives was futile. They were Strigoi and their goal was to kill them. Elegantly simple.

“Lexi! Stay down!”

She made herself as small as possible in her seat. He peered into the rearview mirror.

“Brace yourself!”

The truck jolted forward violently as the first car rammed them. Quinlan maintained control of the truck and grunted. There was little he could do and his helplessness was driving her insane. He had lied. She was _not_ safe.

“Do not let them see you! Where is your hood?”

It was in her backpack, in the trunk. To reach it she would have to become visible to the Strigoi. She was struggling for breath.

“If they see you, **HE** will see you.”

Time slowed and their eyes met. She nodded. His face hardened and he twisted the wheel. The truck flew out of the road and into a dry open field. Before it even stopped completely, Quinlan was gone. She jumped violently when the fire of automatic weapons sliced through the night. The Dhampir was shooting at the pursuing cars.

Sudden brightness stabbed her eyes. They had switched on their brights at the incoming Dhampir. They were blinding him. She used the mirrors to observe. He managed to destroy three of the lights but then was swarmed by Strigoi. Lexi trusted him with all her heart, but she was not stupid. She prepared her own gun, checking the magazine and removing the safety.

Quinlan had run out of bullets and was fighting with his sword alone. Limbs were flying in his wake. Another vehicle arrived as the Dhampir faced the last two creatures. It was a truck, larger than theirs and resembling a delivery vehicle. A silhouette jumped from the driver’s seat and rushed to the back. The double doors burst open.

Then all went so very fast. One of the two Strigoi still standing was fleeing away from Quinlan. Toward the truck. Toward Lexi. She was ready to aim. Quinlan looked at the runner a second too long and was rewarded by a stinger bite. With a growl, he sliced at the offender. The warrior went into a desperate pursuit of the straggler. Because of that, he did not face or prepare for the passenger of the delivery vehicle.

This one ran on all fours like a dog. It made noises disturbing even by Strigoi standard. As Quinlan killed the deserter, the monster pounced and drove long claws across his midsection.

_NO._

The Dhampir crumbled to the ground.

_He could not die. He could not leave her alone on this wretched planet._

Lexi put everything into the dark room. Nothing was left but her gun and that single target. It was on top of the Dhampir. The creature held the sword between them, preventing Quinlan from swinging it. Lexi opened the car door. It was pushing the blade down and down. She fell to a knee on the cold dirt.

The metal was inching closer to the delicate swirls. With both hands on her weapon, she aimed and pulled the trigger. Its head exploded and white pearls shone momentarily in the beam light. Lexi scrambled to her feet and ran as fast as the uneven terrain allowed. Quinlan was trying to get up but fell back down to his knees. One hand held the sword and the other his torn side. She was close enough to see blood pouring from his mouth. He looked at the approaching Strigoi, the driver, then at her. His expression switched from pain to utter horror.

“BORN!” yelled the creature.

Lexi felt sick. The voice, the burning red eyes and the eerie confidence of the thing. All was so disgustingly wrong. She shot but it kept moving in and out of the light. Her hands were shaking from the adrenaline. “ _If they see you, **HE** will see you.”_ As the glowing red eyes danced, fixated on her, she was certain that this was the Master and that he would one day kill her.

“I can smell that one all over you.” The red-eyed parasite screeched.

Quinlan roared and stood.

“Will you ever learn, my so…”

The blade ran through the Strigoi’s skull and the eyes turned dark again. Quinlan, driven by his momentum, crashed into the rocky earth. The weapon left his hands. That door in her mind was still locked. Instead of running to him, she went to the truck and drove it as close to his struggling figure as she could. Lexi used a sweater from the back seat to pack his wound then secured it with his belt and hers. There was no point looking at it now. They had to leave. His body was heavy but he was still conscious and helping somewhat. She almost drove away but then went back for the sword that she tossed unceremoniously on the back seat.

The truck rejoined the road with the skittering of rocks hitting its metal underside. Darkness was no longer a luxury they could afford. She flipped the high beams on. At that speed, they could be back at the compound in a few hours. But that was a pipe dream. Their only hope to avoid pursuit was the noon light. The real light, not that cursed ochre glow. Then they would be able to find safety. Those Strigoi could only have come from the human farm. Fly-over country was deserted and she did not know of any other such Strigoi holds around. With all this in mind, she picked a direction and accelerated well beyond her comfort speed. One task at a time.

 

* * *

 

Throughout the rest of the night and the orange morning, Quinlan came in and out of consciousness. Injuries such as these had seldom occurred in his two thousand years of combat. The wool coat, his denim pants, and the car seat were all soaked in blood. Without medical care, without feeding, he would die. But that could not happen. Because that vermin had seen Lexi. He now had her scent and her likeness. The Master _knew_ she had been with Quinlan that night. Driven by that thought, he willed himself to blurt out a single word.

“Blood.”

Her jaw was so tense. The small body was a ball of tightly wound muscles. Lexi glanced at him extremely briefly. Then he almost lost consciousness again when his body shifted due to a sharp turn. They parked in a dark place. It was a wooden carport. The pine beams ran above the windshield. Lexi opened a cooler and took out several bags of blood. With a small blade, she pierced the first one and forced the liquid down his throat. It helped but it was not enough. She repeated the process two more times. The wound was too deep. It still gaped and Quinlan felt how his entrails were only held in place by fabric and belts. He wished he did not know…That she was _not_ a medical doctor. Her lips pressed against his brow for the shortest of moments and their flight resumed.

 

Painful light was reaching him even through closed eyelids. He moaned but could not turn away to escape it.

“Quinlan!”

Her hands were on his cheeks. _Slap!_ He opened his eyes at the shock of her assault. The frail arms were prying him off the seat. The Dhampir pushed the fuzziness away and forced his legs to walk. They were in a parking lot and the sunlight was only casting short shadows. It was intense and burning him _._ But then darkness again, another car seat. This one stank of plastic and…nothing. Just plastic. He could only smell and feel his inside move as the car sped away. He drifted again.

 

The angry light had faded then completely disappeared. She was grabbing him again, and he leaned onto her, ashamed of his own weakness. The thin legs were buckling, but still carrying him. When the elevator reached the bottom, he passed out. 

 

* * *

 

Lexi was quite certain that Quinlan had died when the elevator stopped and his weight crushed her completely. Her right knee hit the metal floor. She screamed with the effort it took to lift him off of her. Then she pulled him onto the concrete. He still breathed.

She ran to sickbay and took only three items. Saline, gauze and a medical staple gun. The woman hesitated before unfastening the belt. _Nothing you can do can make it worse. He is dying._ Inaction or mistake: he died. The result would be the same. It was a relief that his blood was white. The darker organs appeared clearer than they would have with red blood. She doused them with saline, clearing away the silvery liquid.

Was that his liver? It did not matter. There was a cut there, and it was the worse bleeder. She forced the outer edges together. The organs were tough, much tougher than the fragile mammals and reptiles she was accustomed to. She stapled it shut until it stopped bleeding, dousing more saline often to get a clearer view.

There were other organs cut but to a much lesser extent. Those would heal on their own. She hoped at least. Lexi started on the internal bag housing his entrails. That tissue was familiar. For years she had sliced through smaller versions of it and sutured them back up. It closed easily. At least the cut had had clean edges. Only little tissue would be lost. Then the muscles were also familiar. There she would have preferred working with two additional hands.

How long was this taking? Lexi poured more saline on the muscles and peered anxiously. It was a mess but it held and did not bleed. She sighed and allowed herself a moment to press an ear against his chest. The beat was weak but steady. Halfway through the skin stapling, the gun ran out. She screamed in frustration and stormed back to the sickbay where she prepared needle and silk thread. Her fingers were crippled by fatigue as she worked.

The skin could not stretch further. There was an open gap the size of her palm. No matter, that had been a very possible conclusion from the start. The tissues had swollen from the abuse. All she could do was pour saline on gauze and pack the wound with it.

Considering his healing speed it would not take long for the swelling to go down.  Lexi lied on the concrete, took his hand between hers and waited. His Dhampir metabolism was insanely fast. She wondered if his cells contained mutated mitochondria to fuel that wonderful healing ability.

A thought struck her. She chuckled. At that very moment, Lexi was certain that she knew how Quinlan had been born Dhampir. She looked at his face and smiled. Maybe they could confirm it once he was better.

 

* * *

 

It _hurt_ when the small woman peeled the wet compress off. As she stitched the wound, instinctive snarls tore his throat. Fortunately, per her usual, she was efficient and _quick_. The pain was subsiding and some strength was returning to his damaged shell. Quinlan opened his eyes and stared into the familiar pattern of concrete and steel. The control room had never seemed so inviting, so home-like.

“Lexi…” he whispered.

There she was, ignoring him while she finished her mending. Her main weapon had always been her mind and that _calm_ within. Quinlan knew that without it, he would be dead, rotting in that field. His heart rate picked up. He was so very _proud_ that this was his woman, his Lexi. She was so very precious and had to be safe. The Dhampir whimpered, not from the pain of his flesh but because of what he needed to do. He reached for her knee, and she startled in surprise.

“Don’t move too much just yet,” she scolded him but smiled. “I’m going to bring you some food.”

Quinlan smirked at the word. When had blood turned into food in her mind? The tip tap of her footsteps resonated and he counted the seconds. It took her fifteen to reach the kitchen. Forty to warm the frozen bag just enough for its contents to liquefy. Another fifteen seconds to come back. He gulped the cold blood with desperation. The effect was immediate; he was healing. Still useless in a potential fight but strong enough to do what needed to be done.

“How do you feel?” she asked, leaning above him.

It took him a moment to answer as he was committing her face to memory. The jaw had relaxed, and the corners of her full lips lifted.

“More blood, please, but first…”

It was much to ask, his tongue was still coated in coppery taste. He expected her to shy away from him because of this.

“A kiss?”

Her expression was so very tender at that moment. Now _this_ was the image he wanted seared into his brain until his death. The woman caressed his weary face and pressed her lips against his. When their skin separated, he wanted to scream for more but let her go. As the woman turned her back and headed away, he sprang to his feet. Sickbay was bright and ordered. The speed he usually enjoyed was not back yet. But he was still inhumanely fast as he opened the fridge and read the different labels. The general anesthetic was right there on the top shelf. Clearly labeled as such and with instructions in Lexi’s handwriting.

He filled a syringe, and double checked the concentration to make sure it would not harm her. Footsteps were coming out of the kitchen. In a few seconds, she would have a full view of the floor leading to the elevator. He was standing a few steps behind her when she stopped and stared at the wet spot. Saline and white blood but no body.

“Quinlan?” she called.

That voice. So smooth. Like velvet around his tired soul. Now all he needed to do...

She swirled around as he reached her. _No! He did not want to see her face as he did this_. The hazel eyes widened when the needle sank into her neck. That surprise turned to anger. Instantly, she was fighting him. Each punch was desperate, just like that regretted day in the gym. _No. Please, don't look at me like this._ The small woman screamed in anguish.

“No! YOU PROMISED!”

The drug was working but not quickly enough because he wanted to spare her the burn of a brutal injection. The betrayal on her face vanished, but her eyes remained fixated on his. The calmness rose from within. _Not because of me. Please._ Her hand clawed cruelly at this wound. He deserved that. The pain was intense, almost blinding. It emptied the air from his lungs and forced him to push the plunger completely down. She yelped at the burn. Lexi managed a single word before her eyes rolled back, and she fainted.

“ _Liar_.”

Yes, he was a liar. He had lied when he had sworn to never touch her like this again. He had lied when whispering that she was safe with him before taking her. And he had lied to himself when he had accepted that imprisonment was sufficient for the Master. Quinlan had wanted so badly for this to be the solution because it meant that he could live on, with her. When she had presented an alternative, without even meaning to, he had said nothing because its significance had not yet struck him.

The memories of the most powerful explosion he had ever heard had been brought forward by his guilt. That summer of 1883, the Krakatoa had almost deafened him. Modern atomic weapons paled in comparison to what nature had already created. Soon, just like the Ancients, the Master would _burn_.

He could not stay alive while he knew of her. The Master had lapdogs who would remain thinking and plotting even after his control was cut off. They would search for their master, and that risk was unacceptable.

The small body was limp in his shaking arms. He sat on the floor, cradling her. So fragile and so precious. For the first time in nearly two centuries, Quinlan wept. He kissed her and her skin soon glistened with his tears. Desperate, he caressed her face, her dark hair, her thin hands. It did not alleviate his torment. His sobs turned to roars as he rocked, holding her against his heart.

“I love you so very much,” he whispered into her ear.

But time was limited. So he made himself get up and tuck her in his bed. Then as quickly as allowed by his weakened state, he gathered all that he needed. The clothes that smelled of her strongest, he sealed into airtight bags. The small coffin, the hard drive and the schematics he shoved into the metal trunk. Another cooler of blood was also packed. His sword was missing, but that would be a problem for his future self. Before leaving, he wiped away his blood. The reminder that she had just healed him.

All three devices were secured in the large trunk where he deposited his meager possessions. Of course, she had had her priorities in order. As he drove away, a metallic clang caught his attention. The bone-hilted sword had dropped from the back seat to the carpeted floor. Despite the pressure of that night, she had saved something dear to him. Guilt was suffocating _._

He drove until he could find more fuel then until the farthest town he could reach. There he stashed the car in an underground parking lot. A shirt she had slept in went inside his pocket. The Dhampir walked the streets to find Strigoi to kill. **_He_** would see. **_He_** would smell her on him again. Because Quinlan would allow it and that would lead the beast away from her. He would make the Master chase him to hell. At the gates of death, Quinlan would drag that cursed creature through with him.

 

* * *


	10. Her fight

Lexi woke, and rage pulled her out of the fog. She crawled out of the bed and threw up after a single step. She did not bother calling for him because she knew he was gone. She was going to kill him. Her mind was becoming clearer as she breathed deeply.

It took her a full hour to feel normal again and in that time she took in all the changes around. Most of her clothes were missing and _all_ of his. When she went to the control room, the desk was clear of all the research. The hard drive and the metal coffin were nowhere to be seen. Screams of rage tore the silence, and she pounded the table. The monitors wobbled from the assault. She could see the clear entrance on the screens. The SUV was gone, obviously. Everything was gone. Quinlan had even cleaned his blood off the concrete floors. The woman stood straight and calmed herself.

_His blood._ Only things Quinlan _knew_ about were gone. A vicious smile spread on her lips. The outline of a plan was forming in her mind. There was just one thing he could not know about because, after that first day, she had never even looked at it. Lexi headed to the sickbay. Each step she took made her calmer. Inside the little fridge, at the very back behind a row of injectable vitamin bottles, there was a glass jar. The flattened bullets shone through the milky liquid surrounding them. Months prior, those had been lodged inside Quinlan’s flesh.

 

Lexi did not need another look at Goodweather’s research, but she still wished she had the opportunity. His conclusions were forever seared in her memory. The words flashed and repeated _ad nauseam_.

The worms carried the plague.

The worms dug into human flesh and released the virus.

Their wriggling bodies formed the very center of the infected brains.

 

Midday sun warmed her nape as she hiked the few kilometers leading to the hill. The doctor’s report had been limited. Rushed by necessity. Questions had been left suspended. Had he ever wondered why the white blood alone, loaded with viral particles, did not trigger the infection?

The scorched earth spread through the entire clearing. Time had not yet healed it. Bones laid where Strigoi had once stood. Their bodies had decayed completely when fully exposed to the elements. This was not what interested her. With the handle of a broom, she pushed and prodded the naked ground. It took only a short time because she had replayed the footage of that day. Five corpses had been buried by the explosion.

The first one had been too shallow and rain had uncovered it. She moved on. The second was enclosed deeper in the soil. No part of it was visible. The woman used the stick as a lever to push an arm out of the dirt. It was desiccated, almost intact. Strigoi had a special affinity with soil. It protected them. With a shovel, she cut off the mummified hand, dropped it into a jar of saline and waited for the black particles to settle.

Then she took a capped syringe of blood from one her pockets and emptied it into the liquid. Red bloomed around the boney fingers. Lexi waited. Was that just saline swirling? A hair-like filament was reaching out of the dead skin. The woman stared with relief and intense satisfaction. Two, three…dozens of the deadly worms were plucking at the blood with their hungry mouths. Perfect. _Absolutely_ perfect.

 

UV lamps and thick gloves were paramount in the next step of her plan. Vats of saline housed the various body parts of the Strigoi she had unburied. With a strainer, she began the long and agonizing task of fishing the worms out and placing them into a unique container. It took hours but she was persistent. Sometimes, a worm managed to crawl out of the strainer and on the glove. Those she burned away with the lamp.

A moment of inattention and she would be lost. The floating mass of worms moved as she moved, following her body in a creepy dance. Once satisfied that most of them had been isolated, she went to shower. She scrubbed herself raw, imagining the things crawling under her skin. Then she ate and resumed her work. Sleeping would be near impossible until she had the answers she needed.

Lexi scooped a handful of worms into a mixer and with a grimace of disgust, tore the thin bodies into a thick liquid. The mixer had once been a fixture of her kitchen but after all this, she would burn it. At least she could relax because the worms were dead. She filled sample tubes with their juice and placed them into the small centrifuge. The machine had to be evenly loaded, or it would break under the force of its own rotations.

When she stopped it, the large particles had settled at the bottom forming a solid white plug. That was the pellet that she did not need. Above it rested a pearly liquid then at the very top, a water-like substance. Those two supernatant fractions were important. She isolated them with great care using a micropipette. In the end, one small tube contained the sheer white liquid, the other the clear substance. Inside one of those floated the key to her plan.

 

Had Dr. Goodweather ever figured how Quinlan had come to be? Knowing the curiosity shared by all scientists, she was sure he had at least speculated. However, the man had not had the luxury to test whatever hypotheses had surfaced. Those were the questions the determined woman would answer. Blood ran down the side of her thigh as she sliced the skin with a scalpel. The anesthetized flesh was numb. Lexi spread the finger-sized flap of skin on a metal tray then stitched the incision. That part of the plan was particularly detestable. She preferred her skin intact and attached to her body.

Symbiotic relationships often resulted in co-dependency. The mitochondria in eukaryotic cells had once been an independent organism. Now it did not even contain all of its genetic material. Some had migrated to the cell nucleus and the proteins produced from this DNA then traveled to the mitochondria. Lexi was convinced that something similar had happened between the worms and the virus.

The viral particles did not trigger the metamorphosis into Strigoi because they were missing a crucial element that only the worms produced. The virus could take over a fetus inside the womb without direct contact with the worms. This signified that the missing element was small enough or had some way to travel through the placenta. It was so elegant, so _fascinating._ It was Quinlan’s second conception.

 

Lexi cut the slab of skin into neat squares. She deposited each one of them on a petri dish. It was time for answers. If Lexi’s suspicions were correct, Quinlan’s blood contained the virus but was inactive without that _special element_. The question to answer was: could Dhampir blood turn infectious in the presence of worm extract?

She used a black marker to label four dishes.

One was “white+QB” another “clear+QB” and the last two were just “white” and “clear”. On each sample, she dripped their respective components. “QB” stood for Quinlan’s blood. “white” for the milky fraction of the worm extract, and “clear” for the water-like one.

Complete Strigoi metamorphosis took up to several days but surely on such a reduced scale the process would be accelerated?

 She set her computer and programmed it to take a picture of the samples every hour. Exhausted and in pain from the deep cut in her leg, she attempted to sleep. It did not work. Her thoughts were entirely focused on what she would do if one of the “QB” samples changed. If the skin turned white, like Quinlan’s.

Lexi went down to the garden and examined each of the plants there. Would they die without her? How sad that they had kept her alive for so long only to be discarded if her plan came to fruition. Then she looked up at the bright lights and wondered if the next day, she would be able to tolerate them. The grieving woman returned to bed and lied there until morning.

 

The second Lexi extirpated herself from her bed, she trotted to sickbay. She peered into the small plastic circles. Her heartbeat exploded. The “clear+Qblood” sample had turned positively translucent. The others had remained a normal human pink. Prudent despite the obvious color difference, she looked at the series of pictures. The change had settled barely two hours ago. Still careful she walked back to her bedroom and retrieved her earrings. One small loop was silver. She pressed it against the pink samples, and nothing happened. Shaking, she caressed the white skin with the metal. It sizzled and bubbled at the contact. The woman held her face and her thoughts whirled frantically.

Quinlan carried the virus but could not transmit the infection. And it meant that she was right from the start. A substance only produced by the worms rendered the viral replication possible. The bloodless controls confirmed that the separated fractions had not been infectious by themselves. Therefore, the virus carried by the worms she had killed had likely stayed inside the pellet.

Lexi walked to her bed, tossed the earrings on her nightstand, and screamed into her pillow. Rage was still burning fiercely in her heart, but she was terrified. Dread tore bellows from her chest because today was the day she would cease to exist. At that moment, she hated Quinlan with all her might.

 

It took almost twelve hours for Lexi to mix all the worms and extract the clear fraction from their centrifuged remains. Two transfusion bags were filled with the substance she had named Clear Worm in her mind. CW for short. Her eyelids were heavy and her head painful. Everything laid prepared on the metal slab where she had once removed bullets from Quinlan’s back. Where she had once fed him her own blood.

Two IV bags of CW and a syringe filled with _his_ blood. How very fitting that the only thing the Dhampir had left behind would be her key to reentering the fight. _Her_ fight as much as his. Lexi had been the one who had studied the schematics, worked relentlessly to adjust their mechanisms and eventually built them. Quinlan had assisted but _Lexi_ had built them. And that arrogant, patronizing prick thought he could take it all away and she would stay in this hole, cowering.

The woman gripped the metal until her joints turned white. He would deprive himself of her help, and jeopardize the entire mission because of his outdated ideas of chivalry. What if he was hurt again? Would he staple his own entrails? Risking her life for that cause was _her choice._ That burst of righteous anger had exhausted her. As soon as she put her head on her pillow, she fell asleep. Her slumber was short, shallow and unsatisfying. Lexi tried to convince herself that the absence of Quinlan’s heartbeat had nothing to do with it.

It was morning when she got out of bed. She could tell by the feed of the cameras. Was that how prisoners on death row felt? The woman showered, ate and went to face the instruments of her demise. She took them all in her trembling hands as well as medical tape. The perspective of doing this in the sickbay was nauseating. Instead, she walked slowly to her bedroom. _You are going to die._ She hung both bags above her bed from nails sticking from the concrete.

Then she emptied the syringe into both of them. The white blood swirled in the transparent liquid. _You are killing yourself._ Adrenaline spiked uselessly in her body. It made it difficult to place the needles into the crook of each of her elbows. When she finally succeeded, she secured them with tape. Lexi shed tears in mourning of her own existence. The plague poured into her body as she wept.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan sliced and sliced. The first Strigoi he always dismembered rapidly. The last ones, he waited until their eyes flashed red before finishing them. The Master was trying to tug at his mind but he was the Invictus. _Unconquerable_. He was the only master of his mind. His thoughts were firmly sealed. Most contained the image of a face with large hazel eyes and a halo of dark hair.

 


	11. Joshua

 

Everything was burning. For the first time in her life, she was acutely aware of the individual fibers of her muscles. One by one, they were catching fire. When she looked, she was astonished that her skin was not smoldering. Sweat soaked her clothes and the bedsheets. This had been a mistake. Lexi glanced up at the IV bags. They were both empty.

She laughed and choked on the agony this triggered in her throat. _Too late, you coward._ Lexi ripped the needles from her arms, rolled into a fetal position and let the fire burn through her. Was that how _he_ had felt, a year ago, before coming back to her? Maybe the change was not as painful for normal Strigoi because their brains were quickly taken over by the worms. Lexi found herself envying the mindless creatures.

 

* * *

 

**_15 months ago_ **

 

The research station lied hidden amongst trees. Inside the wooden walls, people had once briefly sojourned in their quest for scientific data. A dirt road was the only avenue back to civilization. Not that there was much of a civilization to return to. Insanity had spread through the country and the scientists had found themselves stranded. Unable to fly back to Europe, they had returned to the cabin to await news that normalcy had returned. Such news had never come. They had been cut out from the rest of the world. Soon, they had run out of provisions.

“I will just try to get some info and buy some food. Hopefully, when I come back, we will have a flight booked to get out of this mess.”

The man spoke, slightly hunched under the low ceiling. He wiped his rimless glasses on his shirt.

“Schmitt and Helen never came back. Maybe I should come along,” said Lexi, her stomach churning from anguish and hunger.

“Emily should stay and do you really want her to be left alone with them?” whispered Stephan.

‘Them’ referred to the other three members of their team. It had just come to Stephan and Lexi’s attention that they had hidden food away. They did not plan to share what little was left. Their colleague, Emily, was pregnant and increasingly unwell but that had not factored into their decision.

“No, I don’t. Please be careful.”

With a heavy heart, she kissed him goodbye. The jeep disappeared between the trees and that would be the last time she had seen Stephan as himself. A day later, Emily was getting worse and Lexi ended up pilfering the food cache in the dead of night to feed her friend.

“You should have some as well…” whispered the pregnant woman while handing half of her protein bar. Lexi took it, bit a small piece and forced her friend to eat the rest. The next morning, an angry bearded man burst into the women’s bedroom.

“Did you take my food, you bitch?”

“Yeah, I did you selfish fuck. What are you going to do about it?”

Lexi stood, a kitchen knife in her fist. She pointed it at his chest. Emily was crying behind her and those sounds were like needles in her heart. The woman knew that her colleagues were fundamentally non-violent, but desperation changed people. She, on the other hand, had learned very early that she was good at threatening others.

The trick was simply to mean it. At that very moment, had the man taken another step forward, she would have stabbed him without an ounce of remorse.

“You’re fucking crazy! Stay away from us!” said the man and he slammed the door shut.

Relieved, Lexi hugged her friend until her crying subsided. Stephan had not come back yet. They spent another night and day in that small bedroom alone. Surviving on the protein bars and nuts that Lexi had stolen. Then the sun set again and everything changed.

Lexi had not heard a car coming so when the front door of the cabin opened in the middle of the night, she jumped to her feet. Whoever that was, she was not going to meet them. People with good intentions rarely entered occupied houses without notice and while everyone slept. Lexi did not sleep though, not with Stephan gone.

Rapid footsteps echoed and the three colleagues sleeping in the main room down the hallway awoke. When the bearded man screamed, Lexi’s stomach dropped. Emily was no longer asleep and struggled to her feet. Her belly was still small, but starvation was hard on her body.

“What is happening?” she whispered and grabbed her friend’s arm.

“Go open the window and see if you can climb out.”

Emily looked like she had asked her to detach her own leg.

“I can’t…”

Furniture crashing and the other two colleagues screaming convinced her. Lexi cracked the bedroom door open and looked. By the light of the small fireplace, three pale figures stood over the scientists. One was particularly tall and familiar. Stephan’s mouth gaped wide open and an arm-like appendage protruded from it. It was holding their colleague by the neck who had lost consciousness.

Her former lover’s eyes were dark and his skin paler than any living human could be. Lexi dry-heaved in horror. The thing glared in her direction and hissed. A strange membrane briefly covered his eyes and retracted. Terrified, she closed the door and placed a chair against the handle. Emily had just managed to climb out and was staring with wide eyes through the window. More agile than her friend, Lexi jumped out and landed on the grass below. The kitchen knife was in her pocket.

“Run as fast as you can,” she told the distraught woman.

Emily did not argue further. As quickly as her condition allowed, she followed Lexi through the trees. The women startled when a screech pierced the night. Eventually, Emily fatigued but Lexi could not leave her behind so she matched her pace.

Eerie sounds, wild and animalistic, were getting closer. The friends reached the poorly lit asphalt road just as the thing that used to be Stephan caught up to them. In the forest behind, the other creatures were close. The long legs had given it an edge in catching up with its prey. The hard ground made their escape quicker but gave the same advantage to the predator.

Knowing it would soon catch up to them, they turned to face it. The women scrambled out of the way of the appendage that shot out its throat. The stinger had been directed at Lexi and the woman slashed at it with the knife. The blood splatter flew away from her and landed across Emily’s cheeks. The pregnant women dropped to her knees and raked at her face frantically.

“No!” screamed Lexi and she dropped the knife to drag her friend away.

The thing’s eyes widened in surprise and its demeanor changed. It stood straight, and the incessant muscle spasms ceased. Then it let out a roar. The rapid tip-tap of shoes smacking the road was upon them. Three creatures now towered over them and their eyes were fixated on Emily.

Lexi tried to shield her but frantic, they pushed her violently out of the way and started tearing into the pregnant women. As her friend’s body was splayed open, Lexi could not scream. She pulled inside her mind and reached for a door that had remained unused for a very long time. Lexi fled. Within a few minutes, footsteps followed.

In the distance, two lights danced over the road and gave her hope. A car was coming. The woman ran faster than she ever had because death was gaining on her. The car screeched to a halt as her legs began to falter.

Blinded by the lights, she did not immediately understand what was happening. Gunshots hurt her ears and she was roughly grabbed and tossed to the side of the road. She rolled once onto sharp stones and pain pierced her back. Out of the light beams, she saw an older man, maybe in his sixties, shooting at the things. He killed two but the one that had once been Stephan rushed him. Quicker than Lexi had expected, he swung a machete and stabbed under its chin. The metal tip appeared on top of the thing’ skull.

Thick pearly liquid sprayed on the old man’s hand. Her savior dropped his weapon and wiped at his hand madly. He swore loudly, and his face contorted in anger. Moved by rage, he kicked the dead creature several times and retrieved his weapon. Then he put his face in his wrinkled hands and breathed loudly. Lexi stared and approached. He noticed.

“No! Don’t get close to the blood!”

The asphalt was covered in white slime and now that she was closer she saw thin worms dancing in it. They curled on themselves in a pattern that reminded her of pictures of the Ebola virus.

“What…is…happening?” she asked, still catching her breath.

“Get in the truck!” he said gruffly.

His eyes were glassy as if repressing tears. Lexi obeyed immediately. This man had to know more. They drove away and Lexi did not look as they passed her friend’s corpse.

“Are you hurt? Did they cut you?” he asked and peered anxiously at her body.

“No, they did not cut me.”

Her back still ached, but the creatures had not caused that pain. The man nodded for a long moment.

“Well, they got me so you gonna have to listen close here. I don’t have much time.”

Lexi listened as they drove through the night. She learned that New York had been hit by a nuclear weapon and that others had exploded all over the world. Having just seen one, she did not bother to argue when he explained what Strigoi were. He also told her what they wanted and what they feared. Silver and light. Finally, he revealed why she should not touch their blood.

“The worms get inside you and in a day or so you turn into one of them.”

This was insane.

“Is there anything we can do to stop them?”

The old man had a mirthless laugh.

“Lady…they’ve won. We’re all done for.”

Taken aback she remained quiet as he continued his tale.

“I used to be an engineer for the army and there is a place I helped build…this is where I was headed.”

He glanced at the back seat, and Lexi followed his gaze.

“Where _we_ were headed.”

In the back, a pet transport box was tightly secured in place by a seat belt. Large golden eyes stared from between the bars.

“Where is the army? Aren’t they stopping this?”

He shook his head.

“Stop this! Get it through your head that _no_ help is coming! I’ve told you: they won!”

“Why were you going there, to that place you built?”

“I was going to survive. But that’s not gonna happen. You can still make it, though. Get that bag there and take out the binder.”

Lexi obeyed because the man was growing more panicked with each passing moment.

“What is this?”

It was red and titled ‘R-5876’. When she opened it, it was full of schematics and meticulous descriptions of some kind of building.

“It’s a bunker. We’re almost there now. You’re gonna get in there and live. I have two requests, though.”

Her stomach was twisting at his words. The man was going to leave her alone in that strange place.

“What are they?” Her voice had lost some of its steadiness.

“Take care of my Jules. She is old, but she is a good girl.”

Lexi nodded and waited for the second request. It only came after they finished driving down a dirt road. There he parked by a concrete building barely bigger than a shed and hidden by thick pine trees.

“Bury my body and when her time comes, bury Jules with me.”

Lexi’s mouth dropped open and she did not react when he took the binder off her hands and ripped out an envelope taped inside the cover.

“That’s the access code for the door and the elevator.”

Then he undid his seatbelt and took a deep breath.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Lexi.”

“I’m Joshua. Good luck, Lexi.”

He took her hand and shook it. His skin was thick and rough. Then he got out and walked off the road onto a grassy field. There he took the Beretta from his belt, pressed it against his temple and shot. Lexi remained frozen in place for a long time. She was unable to process everything that had happened in the span of two hours. A loud meow pulled her out of her trance. Shaking and nauseated, she took the transport box and the envelope and walked to her new home.

 

Almost a month later, no one had come, just as Joshua had predicted. Obsessively, Lexi had read and reread the contents of the binder. The bunker was rather empty except the bare minimum required for survival. The best-equipped room was by far the sickbay, with medicine, basic surgical tools, and testing equipment. Soon, the rations would disappear, and she would have to venture out.

Sleep eluded her since her arrival. That first day she had perused through all of Joshua’s belongings. She had discovered a glass bottle containing cyanide pills that had made her cry for several hours. The old man had died because of her and was reaching out from beyond the grave to invite her to join. Even his cat resented her. _For not being Joshua_. The animal glared at her constantly from a distance and only approached briefly when offered food.

The night exactly thirty days after her arrival, the memories rushed her mind cruelly. Jules entered her room screaming to high heavens. Surprised, Lexi wiped the tears from her face and called the pet. For the first time, she approached without food baiting her. The large tabby cat lied on her pillow and purred. Their noses almost touched. As Lexi relaxed, the cat moved and snuggled against her neck. The woman fell asleep to her purring and to the sound of her minuscule heart.

When Jules died in her sleep a year later, she buried her next to the old man’s grave. Grieving, Lexi had removed drawings of the animal from her walls. After that, the cyanide pill became a permanent fixture next to her keyboard.

 

* * *

 

When had she become prey for Stephan? At what moment had he stopped being a person? The pain was declining. Now the only remaining burn was her throat. It was overwhelming. Lexi moved. A foot, slowly, and the other. The lights were off, but that had little impact on her vision. The constant glow of the monitors in the next room provided her with all the illumination she required.

In the kitchen, her shaky hands returned to the familiar task of preparing a bag of blood. It warmed in the bain-marie and even through the plastic, there was the scent of copper. The burn intensified, so she stopped thinking of it as such. It was _thirst._ Because she was still a person, she took a large glass from a cupboard.

The blood was thick and the smell salty and metallic. _I am still Lexi._ She focused on that thought as she drank. It was disgusting. Exactly like the few times, her nose had bled and the blood had poured in her throat from the inside. But the thirst was subsiding so she gulped on. _I am still Lexi._ The glass tinkered in the aluminum sink. Just like that, all the pain was gone.

The woman had no idea how long it had been since she had forced the needles into her arms. The stink of dried sweat was offensive to her sensitive nose. Carefully, she peeled the dirty clothes from her skin and entered the bathroom naked.

At least, water running on her body still felt good. When she skirted liquid soap on her hand, she retched at the intense chemical smell. Using it was deeply unpleasant and even after rinsing it off, its scent clung to her. Her towel was not quite as soft as she remembered. _Stop avoiding it._ It was pointless and deluded to avert her gaze from the mirror and even from her own arms and legs. Anxiously, she looked at her specular image.

Her arms were pure white, but she could discern very faint darker veins under her skin. _I am still Lexi._ This person in the mirror was not a stranger, it was her because she still very much resembled herself. Despite the white skin and the lines running down her forehead and across her cheeks.

She was still everything that made her Lexi. Her cheekbones were only slightly more prominent and the overall shape of her face was the same. Her nose and lips were the same. She focused on her eyes and sighed in relief at finding the familiar hazel color. Would that change? It did not matter, at this very moment she was happy to see them. A nictitating membrane briefly covered them. Lexi shuddered.

Timidly, she caressed her neck. The skin was flushed from the blood she had just consumed, and that revolted her. Quinlan’s skin there had been textured, with an elaborate pattern similar to a piece of jewelry. Hers still appeared smooth, but this would likely change soon.

She forced herself not to cry as she grabbed hair and pulled. It held on. The dark waves were securely attached to her. That would most likely fall in the next days. It also did not matter.

Under the strands, her ears were pointed and the holes running on their lengths seemed to have partially closed. Her teeth were still white, but the gums were a dark grey as was her tongue. An indentation divided the muscular appendage. It was so long she could easily lick the tip of her nose. Lexi focused on the new organ she knew lied within. It rattled very lowly. _I am still Lexi._ She opened her mouth wide and forced her tongue out. Even though it seemed to have reached its end, she felt like she could still pull further. So she did.

It parted and the small claws appeared. Too small. Lexi frowned. The newly formed stinger was barely the length of her arm and thinner than Quinlan’s. It contracted back and fit snugly inside her neck. Well, she did not have data on the matter, so it was foolish to assume that she would be identical to the Dhampir. She was a _first._ And it had been her choice.

Lexi had remade herself. However short-lived that body would be. She knew nothing of the long-term consequences of her transformation, nor did she care. At that moment, Lexi considered herself already dead. All she wanted was knowing that the nightmare was over before she exhaled for the last time.


	12. The Gift

Her clothes were all uncomfortable. It was unnatural to have fabric hanging off of her like most her shirts did. Walking around naked appeared like the right thing to do since cold did not affect her any longer. But that was inside the bunker and outside there was sun and rain. She put on her tightest tank top and jeans. They were snug enough that she could pretend they were another layer of her skin. The earrings shone on the nightstand. She selected the steel ornaments and put them on. Two loops and two thuds on each side. It hurt to pierce the skin that had grown over, but at least it did not bleed. Until the end, she would look like herself as much as possible.

She packed light since she did not have the benefit of a vehicle. A change of clothes, a map, her gun, a machete, food and his scent. A cooler filled to the brim with blood bags. She hesitated but still took the small bottle of suicide pills. Just in case. 

The only place which still held Quinlan’s perfume was his bedroom. It was a little acidic, like lemons with a sweet finish. The Dhampir took the pillowcase and put it in her bag. With the intention of this being the last time, she walked through the compound. In the gym, the sandbag dangled, mocking. Lexi braced her new body and punched it. With a crack, the chain holding it snapped. The bag flew across the room and exploded against the farthest wall. Lexi smirked as she stared at its contents. Not sand, just a random assortment of rags. 

Her stomach grumbled. What? Confused she rubbed her core and returned to the kitchen she had just visited. There were protein bars on the counter. She unwrapped one and bit into it gingerly. The taste was too intense and took her by surprise. She spat it out. Her stomach was still complaining. This time, knowing what to expect she finished the sweet brick. More than that, she _enjoyed_ it.

 

The orange light did not feel as dim as before. It tickled her skin disagreeably. She wanted sunglasses and a hood. Plastic melted at her feet and the acrid stink wafted away at each burst of wind. All that she had used to change was burning. Even her bedsheets were now ashes. The computer containing the sample pictures and a year worth of recordings she left behind after formatting its memory. She did the same with the video surveillance memory in the control room. From the moment she had arrived a year prior to the moment she left, the files were gone.

She ran to the nearest town. It was like slowing down the flow of time. It was freedom. She laughed loudly at the wind ruffling her hair. Exhilarating. There she found better clothes. A form-fitting long sleeve shirt, black cotton pants and a knee-length wool coat with a large satin-lined hood. 

Now that most practical issues stemming from her new nature were solved, she could move on to the real problem. For the first time since she had ceased to be human, she focused on Quinlan. 

Where would this idiot go? Her nose in the wind identified a myriad of scents but not his. What was his plan? That was easy, finding the Master. But she had no means of finding the Master either. Anger was rising again. Snarls and growls made her throat vibrate uncontrollably. Stopping them was disagreeable. Like preventing oneself from yawning or sneezing. How long had it taken Quinlan to control his Strigoi voice? He still failed often. She roared in frustration. _WHERE ARE YOU?_

Lexi gasped.

Inside her mind, close to the small dark room, something had clicked open. If her psyche was a house, and the cramped dark room the basement filled with monsters, then that click was the front door. She existed inside that discovered country. Lexi shut her eyes and swayed in the wind as she focused on the new space. The physical world vanished around her.

She floated in nothingness. Far, extremely far, there was a white beacon. Lexi scrunched up her face in concentration. She reached like she would with her hand. The perception of herself in that space was just as pale and shiny as the beacon. It was so far but she stretched as much as she could. There it was, a cocoon of pure white light. When she touched it, it pushed back. _Quinlan_. She panicked and tried to grab it. It kicked her off, and she snapped back to the physical world. _Found you._

Her new instincts were screaming that this was her _dear one_. Strigoi were mentally connected to those they had loved and also to one another. Now she was certain that Dhampir were as well. Her grin was vicious. 

Lexi was going to beat Quinlan into a bloody pulp because she hated him for all that he had done. But after, she would stitch him back together. Because she loved him.

 

Sunglasses had not been difficult to find, but she quickly understood why Quinlan’s were more akin to goggles. The light was brutal to her eyes. The once-revered midday sun hung in the sky like a nightmare and she waited through it under cover. 

_Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil._ Lexi laughed at that thought. She had no reason to fear, for she was now the evil in the shadow. When the light turned tolerable again, she walked on. Every few hours, she retreated into her mind and found the beacon. Lexi was not religious but to her, this was clearly his soul. It showed her the way, and she was getting closer. 

Since her rebirth, she had preferred human food but blood enabled her to run. Not the ineffectual human run, but the blur of a speeding Dhampir. 

Nighttime had turned into a blessing. It was the only time she could remove her glasses and _see_. The diffuse moonlight was soft on her new eyes. In the obscurity, she flew like an owl. Fast and quiet. 

“No! Please! Noooo!”

Lexi skidded to a stop. Copper and sweat were carried by the wind. The Dhampir woman looked around. It was a highway, deserted because most humans were not stupid enough to brave the curfew. She followed the screams and the scent of fresh blood. The scene upon which she stumbled filled her with rage. 

“Shut your face, you stupid bitch.”

The man punched a smaller figure down. Another thin and tall yanked a bag out of the hands of the crumbled woman. The puncher had a knife that he was waving dangerously close to their victim and…yes, her daughter. She was crying but quiet. Children had to learn quickly that being noisy meant being dead. Those were common thieves. It was so petty and stupid.

They were making the world even worse than it already was. The Dhampir growled loudly. Four pair of eyes tried to pierce the darkness to locate the source of the noise. The thin man pointed his flashlight in her direction, but she avoided it easily. Now she was behind them, facing their victims. In that instant, Lexi had decided that she would give them the mercy of a quick and painless death. It was more than what those brutes deserved. Later, she would take the time to ponder whether she had the right to make herself judge, jury and executioner. 

“Have you ever walked in the valley of the shadow of death?” 

She asked and her voice was just as low as she remembered but with an underlying rumbling so familiar to her ears. Before they could turn around she kicked the knee of the armed one and as he fell, grabbed his head and twisted. There was a loud snap. His body hit the ground only after she took the second by the throat and slammed his head on the asphalt. The skull cracked and he died instantly. The flashlight rolled away and shut down. Lexi could see the woman and child clearly but they could not.

“What’s happening?” Whimpered the woman.

Her nose was bleeding and so did a cut on her lip. They were both skinny and smelled of unwashed bodies and disease. That scene was horribly familiar to Lexi. That woman reminded her of her mother.

“Are you alone?” asked Lexi.

The eyes focused on her but could not see.

“Did you kill them?” said the woman.

“Yes.”

The corners of her lips lifted.

“Good.”

Lexi smiled and approached. This woman was definitely not her mother.

“I’m going to help you,” she said and crouched in front of them.

“Why?”

“Because I can.”

Joshua had not had any other motive either. The woman frowned and held her daughter closer. 

“Do you know how to garden? How to care for plants?”

It took a long moment for her to finally answer.

“I…had a small garden…when…in the before.”

“Do you have a map?”

She shook her head.

“No…”

“It’s ok, I have one.”

Lexi took the thick book from her backpack. It fell open at the right page, the spine had been shaped by use. The small pencil she kept inside rolled and she caught it before it could hit the ground. 

“I have a bunker with food, medicine, and a garden.”

The woman squinted, unbelieving.

“There is power, running water and everything you need to be safe.”

Lexi explained as much as possible and wrote down clear instructions and a map of the area above the compound. She circled the code for the elevator three times. The eyes were still unseeing but later she would be able to examine the notes.

“In the kitchen, in the large black freezer, there are bags…there is nothing you can eat in there, and you do not require the space. Just leave it be. Never open it.” 

The woman nodded. She was smart enough to understand when something could not be argued.

“In the desk with the monitors, you’ll find a red binder called ‘R-5876’. Read it. All of it. It will keep you alive.”

Lexi flipped through the pages until she found the one of their current location.

“You will follow the road that I am marking because it stays far from Strigoi.”

The little girl plunged her face into her mother’s shoulder. 

“Here you will find gas. Here and there food. Sleep in your car, and make good use of the midday light.”

All the places she could remember that were remotely useful, she marked. Once she was satisfied, she slid the pencil on the page marking the bunker’s location and put the book in the woman’s hands.

“What’s your name?” Lexi asked.

“Laura. My daughter is Emma.”

A small Emma. The name was close enough to Emily’s that her throat tightened slightly. 

“I’m Lexi.”

Laura nodded again.

“Why are you helping us? Why are you leaving that place?”

Lexi considered her words carefully. No sane person would leave such a haven voluntarily.

“I don’t want my garden to die, but there is someone I need to find. Consider this me hiring you for a housesitting gig.”

Laura snorted. It was all she could manage as laughing was a pleasure long forgotten.

“One day I might come back. I really hope that I will find you there. Safe.”

“I hope you find who you are looking for.”

Lexi stood then helped both of them up.

“I will. Maybe you’ll meet him. But I warn you, he is kind of an asshole.”

Emma gasped at the profanity and both women laughed.

“What’s his name?” said Laura.

“Quinlan.”

“That’s a weird name,” blurted out the little girl.

“Well, everything about him is weird.”

Lexi walked them to the car that once belonged to the two men. Those who she had found guilty of resembling her father.

“Good luck,” said the Dhampir.

She watched them drive away. With all her heart she wished them well. Then she ran toward the white light in her mind. For all the Lauras and Emmas of the world, she flew through the night.


	13. Home

The house was surprisingly luxurious, and Lexi was certain a collaborator high in their hierarchy lived there. She perused the freezer and packed her cooler. The contents of the boxes and bags were not important, only that they were frozen. Blood needed to stay cold so she had burglarized occupied habitations often. With her new abilities, it was a trivial task.

The Dhampir’s body had finally settled. When she managed to catch her reflection in a mirror or in a window, she had noticed how scar-like patterns now adorned her throat. They were far less textured than those on Quinlan’s skin. Her hair had not fallen, it had grown at preposterous speed. The new growth was pure white but at least still wavy. Both her teeth and nails had turned dark, like his. Her central incisors had changed shape and now appeared very sharp.

 After her encounter with Laura and Emma, Lexi had thought long and hard about the men she had murdered. Months prior she had questioned whether Quinlan’s mind lacked humanity and now she questioned whether she had lost too much of hers. Had she been human and only armed with a Beretta, would she have taken their lives?

She swallowed with difficulty every time this question arose. Now that she could inflict death with the fleak of a hand, had she lost perspective? Without forgiving her actions, she told herself that she had prevented those men from hurting others in the future. Then slowly she came to terms with the fact that _monsters_ did not contemplate the morality of their actions.

 

How long had it been since she had taken the road? More than two weeks for sure. Quinlan was constantly changing course, jumping from city to city without apparent goal. It was difficult to keep up. Sometimes she needed to plunge inside her head several times per hour to follow. Frustration was getting to her and so was thirst. Her blood reserves were quickly diminishing and she had started strictly rationing. Despite the constant ache in the back of her throat, she only drank what was needed to run.

What was Quinlan possibly doing? Slowly, she was getting closer but not fast enough. What if he found the Master and ended up killed because he was alone? Imagining that possibility always made her snarl.

Every time she retreated into that limitless space only populated by hers and Quinlan’s souls, she pondered its nature. She did not float in smooth blackness, but in the grainy grey, one saw in the total absence of light. Quinlan had told her about the mental link which shackled the Strigoi to the Master. It was the reason why he had always been so adamant about remaining hidden.

The other Ancients also shared such a connection with their progeny. Was this place a lesser version of that bond? The Master could see, hear and smell through his children, but all she had was a drop of brightness hovering ahead. Still, she was grateful every time she spied it. It meant Quinlan was still alive.

 

A week later, she arrived on the outskirts of Sante Fe. In the basement of an empty house, she peered inside the cooler. A single bag of blood rested on top of useless melting items. Lexi chuckled, then as she emerged herself in the vastness, she laughed out loud. Quinlan’s beacon was there, so very near and completely still. Like her, he waited for the midday sun to falter. When the ochre light shone, she left her belongings behind and went to finally meet him anew.

* * *

Quinlan had given up on anything that made him part human. Violence was his days and his nights. Strigoi were chasing him again but this time, he very much wanted them to. The Dhampir was fed and completely healed. He could slice through them for hours at a time. Two weeks prior he had even removed the metal staples from his side and the scar would soon fade into nothing.

Tall buildings surrounded him and the streets echoed with the slashing of his sword. The twilight glow covered the cityscape with grey. Today it was only ten creatures, and he knew that it would leave him thirsting for more. Lexi’s scent smacked his face every time the shirt he had tucked into his belt caught the wind. Loud cracks resonated unexpectedly. _Gunfire._ Quinlan braced himself for the pain of bullet impacts. It did not come. The Strigoi dropped one by one, each with a neat hole to the head.

The Dhampir stood alone surrounded by dead prey. _His_ prey. The stinger rattled angrily and he glared around. A hooded figure on a nearby roof was lowering a gun. It turned and walked out of sight. This one had stolen his kills. Quinlan sped to the entrance door, punched it open and climbed the stairs all the way up in seconds. Irrational anger made him kick the door much harder than necessary.

The metal panel flew, cleared the roof and landed noisily in the street below. The thief was leaning on the brick wall and looking at the still skittering object. He was not even paying attention. No… _she_. The thief was a woman. Her smell made him rumble with hatred. _Strigoi tang_. Was that one of the Master’s minions toying with him?

“Where is your Master, you vile creature?” he asked and advanced with his arms wide.

He would enjoy killing it very slowly. Those special ones, who got to keep their cursed consciousness, he despised them. Quinlan sheathed his bone-hilted weapon and wound his muscles for an explosive burst of power. Breaking the thing’s legs seemed like the best way to start. He sprang, and the new prey did the same. Quinlan was blindsided by its speed. It whirled past him and as it did, something tugged at his belt. _No!_ It now stood by the door frame, holding the shirt to its face and stealing the precious perfume.

“That is mine!” Quinlan snarled.

The thing raised a finger and moved it from left to right as if correcting a child.

“No. It’s very much _mine_.”

The voice was low and velvety. That voice was warmth and the highlight of his dreams. His heart broke, for this was Lexi’s corrupted body. The Master had found her and in his exquisite talent for sadism, had kept enough of her intact to hurt him deeper than ever before. She removed her hood and the Dhampir’s jaw dropped open. Dark waves brushed her shoulders but turned white under her ears as if only bleached at the roots.

Awfully familiar stripes marked her pale face. But her eyes as she walked closer, her eyes were still of this strange color between green and brown. Nothing made sense. This visage was not Strigoi, it looked like his. Despite his confusion and overwhelming distress, as she stepped closer and closer all he could think was: _I am home._

* * *

“No, it’s very much _mine,_ ” said Lexi.

Why was Quinlan carrying her former smell across the country? Was he luring the Master away from the compound? She swallowed with difficulty, grateful for his effort but still resenting him for his actions. His face had changed from smugness to unbearable pain. Of course, she should have expected as much. Lexi lowered her hood so that he could see her face. _Do you see, my Quinlan? Dhampir, not Strigoi._ He had seen and now his mouth hung open and he was shaking his head.

With each step, she walked deeper into the glow of his soul. Their lights touched and mixed. At that contact, she inhaled deeply. It was stepping into a hot bath after a cold winter day. It was crossing the threshold of her house after a long work trip. It was falling asleep in Quinlan’s arms after they had made love. It was belonging. _Home._ His eyes shut and he cocked his head. He could feel it too.

“How?” He breathed.

Quinlan dropped to his knees. She stepped between his outstretched arms and held his face against her chest. The powerful arms squeezed her waist. One day, she would make him pay for his mistakes but not today. Under her fingers, his skin no longer felt feverish. Neither did his lips when she kissed him. His hold tightened and before her change, it would have hurt but not anymore.

“We have to go. Follow me.”

More Strigoi would eventually come. His grip did not loosen. With a heavy heart, she peeled him off. When he stood, his eyes were glassy and his brow furrowed. Lexi kissed him again, a light peck, then sprinted away. Just outside the city limits, in the suburbs, she led him where she had spent the previous midday. During their short trip, she had to wait for him to catch up several times. With a musical giggle, she realized that she was slightly faster than him.

As she peered ahead, her eyes identifying the next spot for her feet to strike, the vastness in her mind pulled at her focus. There was something else in that bond. Something not yet unlocked. Her concentration shifted to it and she stumbled. Quinlan managed to catch her and she slammed against his chest. Laughter boomed out of his throat.

“You need practice.”

Considering the novelty of her abilities, this was an understatement. But at that moment she did not care, they were seconds away from shelter. The thing in the limitless space was becoming uncomfortable, and she wanted to explore it without being so exposed. Lexi grabbed his hand and guided him through the last street, inside the house and down in the windowless basement. There, she collapsed on the large couch where a family had once enjoyed movie nights. A huge flat television screen covered most of the wall opposite the staircase. That closed part of the Bond was _wrong._

Unnatural. It could not be. Vaguely, she felt Quinlan sitting next to her and talking. But she was floating in her own mind, in the warmth of his soul. She reached and it pushed back. That was driving her to the edge of insanity. It was akin to observing a pencil roll off a table only to shoot up to the ceiling instead of dropping to the floor. Non-sensical and disturbing. Mentally, she retreated, as if giving herself space to jump. With all her might, she charged at the cocoon of light. The shock of the impact against that rock-solid resistance snapped her back to reality. Quinlan was holding his forehead and breathing heavily.

“Why are you blocking me?” She whimpered.

The wrongness was his doing because when she touched him, he rejected the contact. He took her shaking hands and pressed his brow against hers.

“I had not comprehended it was you until now. Only the Ancients and the Master had ever contacted me in that way.”

Lexi was floating in the dark pool again. She reached for his soul. They connected into a flash of heat which sent a ripple of contentment through her body.

_“I am so sorry, Lexi.”_

She grinned. The voice was his, but devoid of any Strigoi rumbling. The unspoken words rang clearly inside the Bond. Her smile widened at imagining the panic her former self might have experienced at hearing another voice in her mind.

_“I can hear you,” s_ he thought.

Quinlan kissed her and buried his face against her neck. It tickled the very sensitive skin.

_“What happened? How did you change?”_

Memories rose in the vastness and she let them flow to him. Images flashed in quick succession and she imbued them with meaning as she passed them along. _The jar of bullets containing his blood rolled between her fingers. Desiccated Strigoi remains and their revived parasites floated in a jar. Tubes rotated inside a small device. She sliced at her own flesh._

Quinlan winced.

_The tests had brought her the answers. Lexi sobbed at leaving her human life behind when she infected herself. Lexi was BURNING_.

Quinlan chocked and griped at his own throat.

“Why would you do such a thing?” he whispered through clenched teeth.

The luminous bond was still there and she poured more of herself in it. _White blood and saline spread on the floor just outside the elevator. Wet footprints led away from it and she turned around to follow them. Quinlan’s own face, cold with determination and the prick of the needle. Lexi fought furiously against the familiar helplessness. It was a betrayal. The Dhampir’s face was overwhelmed with sadness as she opened the dark room in her mind._

_Lexi took everything, her rage, her love, her heartbreak, and pushed it all away. Then she made a calculated assessment. Her fingers found the recent wound and inflicted agony. The pain in her neck turned intense, and her muscles went limp. Through all of it, the cursed vulnerability and the desire for strength._

Quinlan’s body was shaking.

_The plan they had devised was coming to a close. She imagined finishing the mission. As equals. No longer dominated by fear and no longer dominated by Quinlan. No more helplessness. **Ever**._

_“Do you hate me?”_ he thought.

_“No._ _But I did.”_

It was unkind but in the Bond, there could be no lying or half-truths. Her companion pulled away from her and clutched at his chest. Quinlan’s anguish was torture. She had no desire to hurt him any longer. Lexi fumbled for another recollection and gifted it to her dear one.

_Quinlan stood in the dimness. It was impossible to make out his face especially through her tears. Warm fingers wiped away the wetness on her face. Not in a practical manner, but with tenderness. It was affection and Lexi’s heart was swelling with hope. As he brushed his lips against hers, she still doubted what it meant. Desperate for confirmation, she took a leap of faith and was rewarded with joy._

Quinlan relaxed. As they basked in the softness of that memory, a low purr emanated from both of them.

* * *

The Dhampir could see through the very eyes of his beloved. The sensations, the feelings and even his own taste on her tongue took over his senses. Spoken words now appeared so archaic. Limitations of another era that he wanted to shed like an old skin.

_“I want you,”_ Quinlan thought.

Lust demanded, more akin to a need than a desire. Lexi held him tighter but her worry tasted bitter in his soul.

_“What if you end up disliking that new body?”_

_“Never_.”

That sharing of thought did not allow for deception, and he relished that openness. Quinlan explored her and marveled at the changes. Lexi’s perfume was similar to the lemon jam she used to make. Relief washed through his entire body because as he breathed in the scent of her skin, the thirst did not come. For the first time since his first clumsy and frustrating embrace two millennia prior, he did not fear to hurt the other.

White fingers dug into equally white flesh without harming. Self-consciousness at his Strigoi voice was futile as she also made no effort to stifle her own. Neither shied from what appeared natural. The small claws of her stinger dug into his shoulder and it felt right.

_“Yes. I am yours,”_ he told her.

The inhuman snarls of her release scratched at something deep in him. She pressed herself tightly against his body and his last rational thoughts vanished. He found himself on all fours, her back writhing against his chest. Their fingers were intertwined but it was insufficient. As he pressed his brow on her head, his stinger closed around the delicate nape. Lexi shuddered in delight.

_“MINE,”_ Quinlan roared in his head.

He moved harder than he had ever done before during those passionate moments. The liberation felt like gleefully going insane. Pleasure coursed through his body and through that bridge between their souls. Nothing else compared to that bliss.

 

Quinlan wanted to stay in that basement forever. He was content for his world to be limited to Lexi’s body and mind. Missing her had been a constant weight that he had dragged through the country. Her change and the resulting Bond it had created between them had been blessings he did not think he deserved.

_“Why is your hair that way?”_ he asked.

_“It did not fall, it just grew colorless. It grew very fast.”_

Their metabolisms ran high, and that seemed to include hair growth. As strange as it was that she still possessed such an attribute.

_“Your eyes, your stinger. They are different,”_ he continued.

_“Yes. I do not know if it is because I am a woman...”_

Knowledge of sexual dimorphism and various examples of birds and fish accompanied her unspoken words. Quinlan cringed. Memories were warmed with feelings, but those facts were cool and sharp. It was bizarre to be imbued with insights without earning them.

_“Or because I am not like you. I am not Born.”_

_“No…you are Reborn.”_

Lexi grinned, amused by that expression. Power had been thrust upon him accidentally just before his birth. His beloved had reached bravely for that power and taken it. Quinlan prided himself that such a woman would love him.

_“Have you ever experienced this thing… the Bond?”_ she asked.

_“No, I have not. I never knew that such coupling was possible. The Ancients and the Master would speak directly in my mind but only if I allowed it. Very young I learned how to close off that sense at the attempted Master’s intrusions.”_

_“Isn’t our bond what Strigoi share with the Master?”_

_“Their link and ours are, I believe, fundamentally different,”_ Quinlan shared.

Hungry for her, he was detailing every feature of her face. He traced the stripes, marveling at the myriad of shades hiding within them. The new earrings he also quite enjoyed because they highlighted the graceful shape of her ears.

_“How so?”_

_“Their bond is a prison, ours is a home.”_

Her gaze drifted in deep thought and she slowly nodded. Shallow swirls rested above her collarbones and he caressed them as well. Lexi shuddered and quickly took his hand away.

_“Are yours also that sensitive?”_ she asked.

_“Excessively.”_

She smiled. Quinlan wanted to kiss her again, but she pressed a finger across his mouth to stop him.

_“We have work to do, my Quinlan.”_

But he did not want to think about it. In fact, so far he had successfully managed to push all those problems away. Her words had sprung a revolting realization forward. Quinlan held her tight and whimpered into her hair. What complete fool he had been at rejoicing at her transformation. So _deluded_.

_“Quinlan?”_

His heartbeat was ringing in his ears. When she held his face and he saw the familiar stripes on her skin, he grimaced. Quinlan chose memories and arranged them anxiously, so she would comprehend his distress. The Master had to die. There could remain no way for him to rise again, and she had given him the solution as he made the silver coffin.

When the small metal box enclosing the crimson worm exploded in an inferno of molten rock, the Master would be destroyed just like the Ancients had been. Connected by his blood, his progeny would follow including Quinlan and…

_“Me. I understand,”_ she said very weakly.

The Dhampir buried his face against her chest because he did not want to lose this. He did not want her to perish. The cruelty of finding true belonging, only to have it taken away was tearing him apart. Quinlan was no longer ready to die. Lexi’s fortitude was the only thing keeping him from giving up. The mental embrace forced him to stand up and do his duty.

 

* * *

 


	14. The last Sun Hunter

It was reassuring finally _knowing_ how she was going to die. Speculating constantly on the subject for the past year had been a burden. And part of her since the day she had met Joshua had been convinced that living in the bunker was just delaying the inevitable. One way or another, she would perish as a consequence of the Strigoi plague. How ironic that her own actions would precipitate that event.

Quinlan’s memory replayed over and over again. An old woman with compassionate eyes had explained to him how his essence was connected to his progenitor. Her name had been _Ancharia._ Lexi had also gleaned Quinlan’s affection and guilt. She had no intention of asking more about that woman at this very moment. It had been difficult enough to convince her companion to leave that basement.

For the first time since she had met him atop that hill, the Dhampir appeared defeated. And Lexi was acutely aware that this was her fault. However, as much as she wished she could alleviate his suffering, she did not regret what she had done. Together, they would end the nightmare and their reward for this coming sacrifice was their time in the Bond.

Strigoi roamed the streets of the city. Having stayed put the entire night had been a shortsighted decision. The heaviness of Quinlan’s thoughts seeped into her mind. There was little she could do as sharing joyful memories required focus. That concentration she needed to dedicate to their course through the infested town.

The creatures were relentlessly looking for the Born and had spread in the suburbs. Sprinting from shadow to shadow, the couple crossed Santa Fe and entered the parking lot where the SUV was hidden. It stood anonymous amongst a quantity of other abandoned vehicles. Lexi and Quinlan had consumed her last reserve of blood before leaving the house. Both were getting thirsty. As soon as they drove away, they shared another ration. In Quinlan’s cooler, a single pack remained.

“ _I_   _burglarized a donation center a week ago but my provisions did not last long,”_ informed Quinlan.

“ _We will have to do that again.”_

“ _Indeed, but there are more pressing matters. The sun will soon come. So far south, it would be judicious to seek shelter.”_

Telephone poles cast short shadows beside the road. Around them, arid planes spread toward the rocky hills in the distance. Even with her hood, her glasses and the cover of the vehicle, she grew uncomfortable. How she hated that sun now.

“ _There are buildings ahead,_ ” noticed Lexi.

Quinlan nodded and accelerated. A forlorn gas station stood amongst a few modest houses. This had not been anyone’s home at least. One of the buildings had once been a seedy looking bar. They hid the SUV behind it. No need to attract the attention of any passing vehicle, however rare they might be. On the back seat, under the near-empty cooler, were half a dozen books. All had flowing lava or exploding mountains on their covers.

Lexi did not want to look at them, so she gathered the volumes and shoved them into the metal trunk. Then they took the precious devices and entered the bar through its back door. The small space was filled with round tables and at the back, a vast counter spread across the length of the room. They deposited their cargo on the dusty wood of the bar.

“ _If there is still any fuel here, we might be able to drive straight back to the bunker,_ ” said Quinlan. He dripped a few drops from their last bag to the brains in the jamming devices. Worms plucked hungrily at the red blooms.

“ _About that…_ ”

She shared the memories of Laura and Emma but not of the two men. Quinlan turned slowly to her, bewildered.

“ _You did what?”_

“ _I’ve helped people who needed shelter more than I did.”_

“ _You’ve compromised our base of operations.”_

“ _Quinlan, when you left I doubt you planned on coming back. You relinquished your claim on that place.”_

His brow was suddenly crossed with deep lines.

“ _Did you not plan on going back yourself?”_

“ _I wished it, but I knew it was unlikely. I thought you might have found the Master by now.”_

Quinlan grunted at that remark. Then he shook his head in confusion.

“ _Did you not plan on going back after defeating him?”_

Lexi did not reply. Even with her Dhampir strength, she had been convinced that the Master would kill her. Ever since she had seen those red eyes fixated on her, it has seemed immutable. Quinlan scrutinized her expression.

“ _You knew nothing of my plan or of our deadly connection to him, but still, you did not expect to survive this?_ ”

“ _No, I guess I did not. Not truly_.”

The muscles of his jaw jutted out.

“ _Why are you so willing to die?_ ” There was anger in that thought.

“ _I am not willing. I accept that possibility because I do not see the point in rebelling against it. I am tired of being scared._ ”

He shook his head and turned away from her.

“ _This is my fault. I should not have involved you in that war._ ”

Lexi sighed and put a hand on his shoulder.

“ _I had accepted that I might die before we even met. When I crawled on that hill to help you, I was quite sure it would be the end for me.”_

She leaned to look at him, and he avoided her gaze.

“ _Quinlan, helping you that day was my choice. Just like what is happening right now is my choice. By blaming yourself, you diminish the value of those decisions. You act as if I could not knowingly lay down my life_. _As if I had no agency_.”

In a blur, he turned back toward her.

“ _No…I did not mean that._ ”

“ _Please, do not regret involving me because then we would have never known each other._ ”

The corners of his lips lifted in a melancholic grin.

“ _I will never regret knowing you, Lexi. I cherish every moment._ ”

“ _Even that day?_ ”

In the recollection she shared, Quinlan had just finished drinking two deer and she was screaming at him. The Dhampir had sprinted to her and growled menacingly. He laughed and pulled her close.

“ _So you wanted to shoot me?_ ”

“ _I did. I knew it wouldn’t kill you, and I was quite mad._ ”

“ _I pray the Gods that I never anger you again._ ”

This remark made her cringe in remorse. Her rage had already been costly for two humans. Lexi bit her lip and looked up into his eyes.

“ _I killed two men that day. When I gave the mother and daughter the map to the bunker._ ”

 “ _How?_ "

She showed him and his mouth contorted in disgust.

“ _They deserved it._ ”

“ _Did they really?_ ”

“ _Is there anything more repugnant than attacking a mother and her child?_ ”

Lexi could not immediately think of other such scenarios. But surely, if Quinlan forgave her, then she could forgive herself as well?

“ _You gave them your map…”_

_“I did.”_

_“Lexi, how did you find me?”_

She chuckled. As if he did not know.

“ _The vast place! Where the Bond is! I can see you there.”_

_“I am afraid I do not grasp the meaning of your response.”_

The woman caressed his temple.

“ _Inside your mind. Look for the place where you can hear me.”_

_“I believe you might have had more practice in such endeavors.”_

Of course, she had. Already as a child, she had begun treating her mind like a place she could manipulate.

“ _I’m going to hide and remain quiet. Look for the beacon in the lightless world.”_

“ _Wait…I do not think I can do that_.”

Her smile turned into a smirk.

“You? I thought you could accomplish anything you wanted. Maybe I was wrong…” she said out loud.

Quinlan rattled and uncovered his sharp teeth. Excited by this little game, she kissed his cheek and disappeared.

“ _I will find you, you little vixen. And when I do…_ ”

Lexi repressed a laugh as she hid. The building had a crawl space at its very top and she crouched there. Curious of his progress, she dropped into the grey pool. Inside the boundless space, Quinlan was close. The cocoon of brightness was vibrant and so was her own light. How could he not see it? After several minutes, the cocoon cracked open. Fascinated, she observed as his glow expanded. Intense as a sun that did not burn.

It was towering and dazzling. Lexi suddenly felt very small next to his gigantic presence. In a matter of seconds, he would perceive her. Like lances, beams of his brightness pierced the space around.

Dread squeezed her insides. Behind him, like a moth seeking a bulb, a red stain crept. It was blind and did not shine. The thing snapped in out and out of existence, reappearing near the spots where Quinlan’s light had shone brightest. It was getting closer to him. The abomination did not belong here. Lexi rushed back to the physical world and screamed.

“QUINLAN! STOP!”

She sprinted to him and was met with deep confusion.

“ _What is the matter?”_

“You cannot project yourself like this. He knows your light. When you reach too far, **_he_** feels you,” she said.

Quinlan had not immersed inside the vastness the way she did, he had expanded the glow of his soul. His method was clearly dangerous. Scared for the safety of the Bond, she returned to her mind. Everything was normal. The stain was gone, and Quinlan’s soul was back into its firm cocoon. She breathed.

“ _It’s safe. We’re safe.”_

_“This means I cannot find you as you did.”_

_“If need be,_ I _will find you again.”_

_“It will be one hour before the sun is covered. When that time comes, let us not dally.”_

Lexi nodded. The toxic light provided protection but they needed to remain careful. So they waited. And when the sun started to wane, they knew they had made a huge mistake. Two clouds of dust lifted in the horizon. One came from Santa Fe and the other from the direction they had intended to take. They blocked the only road from both sides.

“ _They are semitrailer trucks,_ ” said Quinlan after focusing on their sounds.

She concentrated as well. Besides the powerful engines, there was nothing there.

“ _I cannot hear anything inside.”_

_“It means the drivers are not human.”_

Lexi growled loudly. Strigoi did not have a heartbeat.

“ _How many? I cannot hear anything besides the truck themselves.”_

_“I believe they are attempting to camouflage their sounds.”_

They had timed the assault to coincide with the arrival of the ochre light. The Dhampir were trapped between the two incoming trucks. Terrain east and west became rapidly too rocky for the SUV to manage.

“ _Shall we run?”_

Quinlan was still focusing deeply, and a satisfied smile appeared on his face.

“ _No need. There are just a few dozen of them.”_

_“Hum…”_

_“The Master did not have time to gather more. We are the lucky ones this time.”_

The self-assured Dhampir checked his Micro Uzis. His ammunition was limited to what was left in their magazines, but that did not appear to bother him.

“ _I can deal with them myself. Please remain inside. Do not let them see you…this time.”_

Memories of that catastrophic night surged into her mind.

“ _There are even more than last time. I will fight with you.”_

_“It really is not necessary. Your change gives us an edge, and it would be foolish to waste it. You must keep out of sight.”_

_“I trust your abilities, I really do, but you almost died last time.”_

His gaze shifted, and he needlessly checked his magazines again.

“ _There is something you are not telling me._ ” She pushed.

They could not lie in the Bond, but they were not obligated to speak.

“ _That night, I was distracted because you were there. I would have let that Strigoi find any other human associate. It would have mattered very little to me if the Master saw them_.”

She growled and gripped the edges of the bar. Quinlan had nearly died because of her. Because she had been a liability. The wood splintered around her fingers. From now on, she would never be a burden to him. Like he had said, she was now “an edge.” Lexi relaxed. She had to remain hidden not because of her weakness but purely for tactical reasons. This she could accept.

“ _At least finish the blood,”_ she said.

_“Very well.”_

After his meal, the Dhampir removed his coat and goggles and put his holsters and the sword sheath directly above his vest.

“ _This time I enter the battle with the reassurance that if one of them finds you, it will die swiftly.”_

Lexi felt reinvigorated by his faith. She observed from a window as he walked into the ochre light. The Dhampir stood on the asphalt, mocking one of the nearing trucks then turning to also taunt the other. Lexi snorted. Both large vehicles stopped askew to block the road completely. Their windows were tinted, protecting the drivers from harmful rays. It would not protect them from the lone warrior. Strigoi poured out of the bellies of the metal beasts. Crimson eyes jumped from creature to creature.

"INVICTUS!" they screeched in unison and that display made Quinlan laugh.

Like a flock of starlings, they moved and surrounded him.

“ _Beloved, please duck_.”

She obeyed and instantly the rapid fire of automatic weapons drowned the snarls of the Strigoi army. Two rounds pierced the windows above her. Most landed inside white flesh with satisfying thuds. The bullets would be insufficient, and the sword would have to sing. When the Uzis stopped firing, Lexi resumed her observation. The dance had begun. Red eyes blinked everywhere and then closed forever when metal flashed.

Quinlan flew among them. As her Dhampir eyes managed to follow, she was taken aback by the gracefulness of his gestures. Notwithstanding her new abilities, she could _not_ move like this yet. On the horizon above Santa Fe, more dust was rising.

“ _More are coming_. _I should join you and finish this quickly.”_

“ _No! Your existence is a weapon! We must keep it a secret!”_

He was right. Her new strength gave them an advantage intrinsically but also because the Master could not predict it. Quinlan was healthy and still fighting with mesmerizing grace. When she reached through the Bond tentatively, she could perceive his confidence and…his pleasure of slicing unencumbered. Falling into savagery was delightful. As her own heart ached to enter the battle, she understood.

When the approaching vehicles got close enough she focused on the sounds within them. Ten heartbeats rang clear. The engines were small compared to the trucks. She doubted more Strigoi accompanied the humans. Slowly, Quinlan was tiring. Should he falter, even for an instant, she would be at his side.

“ _There are ten humans coming,”_ she warned.

_“Inconsequential.”_

Twenty Strigoi stood strong when three SUVs arrived at the level of the parked truck. The cars stopped in the dirt on each side of the road. Humans emerged from their sunroofs and she promised to herself that should any of them shoot Quinlan, she would drink them dry. That animosity permeated through her self-control.

“ _I know. Let me contend with them. Everything is well,”_ soothed Quinlan.

She did not protest but braced herself when the men pulled high caliber automatic weapons upon the vehicles. Quinlan started whizzing about, making himself a difficult target. Then a loud voice boomed above the Strigoi cacophony.

“QUINLAN! GET OUT OF THERE!”

“Huh?” said Lexi to herself.

The warrior sprinted to the SUVs and the Strigoi followed. But he was faster. As soon as his silhouette joined the men, they opened fire on the swarm. Limbs and torsos exploded at the contact of the powerful projectiles. All was over in seconds.

_“What is happening?”_ she thought.

_“The last Sun Hunter.”_

The image of a young man appeared in her mind and with that, the respect of one warrior to another. Then a name: _Augustin Elizalde_. She was still unsure what he meant by Sun Hunter but at least, this was not an enemy. Relieved, she concentrated on their spoken exchange and watched.

“I fucking _knew_ this mess was for you!”

The man jumped off the car roof. He thrust a palm toward the Dhampir who accepted the handshake.

“We’ve been tracking you for two weeks, man!”

There was a murmur of agreement in the small crowd.

“You have?”

“You thought nobody would notice a ghost making Strigoi sashimi all over the place?”

Quinlan was embarrassed, she could sense it. He did not like being exposed in such an unexpected way.

“I guess I cannot be surprised that humans might also have…taken notice.”

Gus laughed and added, “When we arrived in Santa Fe we had missed you by less than a day…I was pissed. But then, some Strigs started gathering and we’re no fools. We _knew_ they were coming for your white ass.”

A hint of irritation at the colorful language. Lexi giggled.

“Why have you come to find me?”

“I thought you were dead since the bomb. Do you think we want to live the rest of our lives like rats? We want the Master dead."

The other men nodded, and some threw words of agreement. Quinlan paused.

“ _The Sun Hunter and his confederates would make formidable allies. He has proven useful in the past.”_

_“Can we trust them?”_ asked Lexi.

_“Since we all share the same goal, I believe we have little choice.”_

_“Then I’m coming.”_

He was unsure but she was not. She walked out of the house, hoodless.

_“You better introduce me before they start shooting again.”_

“Mister Elizalde, my companion will join us now.”

“Your _what_ now?”

Lexi closed the distance between the bar and Quinlan in seconds. Some of the men jumped back in surprise and the one standing closest to Gus positively screamed.

“MADRE DE DIOS!”

She stood by the Dhampir's towering silhouette with a hand on his back. His body radiated intense heat due to the recent battle.

“What’s _this_?” asked Gus, less surprised than the other men.

The olive-skinned fighter was rather handsome with his dark eyes and high cheekbones. Despite his agreeable features, the tattoos on his neck and arms made him look fierce.

“My name is Lexi,” she said and looked at each member of that troop. Not a single woman and they seemed like they had seen better days. All were unshaven, and one had a terrible scar across his face.

“Nice to meet you, Mister Elizalde,” she added and offered Gus a hand which he shook. This was the first time a human looked at her new face. His gaze was confused but fearless. She grinned.

“Nice to meet you too, huh, ma’am.”

Then he turned to Quinlan.

"So you have a sister?”

" _Oh hell no,_ " she thought.

“ _Revolting.”_

Her smile morphed into a grimace. Quinlan must have reacted similarly because Gus’ face transformed with the realization that their relationship was of another nature. He nodded and waved a dismissive hand. The men had gone over their surprise and were detailing the two Dhampir. Their eyes switched from Quinlan to Lexi, comparing. Some exchanged looks and there were discreet smirks. The gang judged she was not as impressive as Quinlan was. They had just seen him fight after all, while she cowered within the safety of the bar. Still being regarded as weak was bothersome.

“I’ve got like a thousand questions but I think we should bounce first,” said the Sun Hunter.

“Agreed. We have our own vehicle.”

They made arrangements and soon it was decided that their own SUV would lead. Gus and his cousin, Raul, would ride with them. The other eight would remain in contact via radios. Before departing, they checked the fuel tanks of the deserted station. They were empty. Not ten minutes of driving later, Gus could no longer hold back.

“So there are two of you, huh?”

His dark eyes observed them briefly in the rearview mirror before returning to the road ahead. Lexi reached for Quinlan’s mind and they exchanged words in the span of a few seconds.

“ _Does he know how you were born?_ ”

“ _No. I never told him_.”

_“We cannot tell him of my origins either. For that matter for now on, the story of your creation needs to be kept secret. If I figured out this out thanks to you, others could as well. We don’t need another Eldritch Palmer.”_

_“What should I say?”_

_“That you were born from a Dhampir mother and father.”_

_“Why should he believe that?”_

_“Because you’re going to sell it and so will I. If we are lucky, he might never ask. From now on, our story is that our species is a cousin to the Strigoi, and the Master hunted us to extinction. We cannot infect humans, ever. This is our taking revenge for the genocide of our own.”_

_“Very well.”_

Quinlan turned to Gus who was completely unaware of the exchange which had just taken place.

“So it seems,” he replied.

“Hey, lady, why did it take so long for you to climb into the ring?”

It was _lady_ now? _Urg._

“What makes you think I haven’t been plotting from the shadows this whole time?”

For their lie to work, she would need to suggest that she was much older than she really was.

“Really?”

“I only come out now because events are ripe for a final blow.”

“I like the sound of that. But then what are you doing on the other side of the fucking country? The Master is still in New York.”

_“Ha! What indolence! He basks in his perceived victory.”_

Quinlan was shaking from the revelation and the remark had burst through the Bond.

“How can you be so sure about that?”  asked Lexi.

“I’ve got some eyes all over the place. We cornered the black market in the city. And a few of my little birdies told me that Eichhorst is established there…I figured…”

“You thought well. The lapdog would be reluctant to leave his master’s side,” said Quinlan.

While they spoke about the probability that the Master did indeed reside in New York, Lexi’s brain was bubbling. This information and their new associates changed everything. Even more than her new body. The outlines of a plan, insane but elegant, formed. It would be dangerous and involve her meeting the Master while shackled but it could work. She shared it in the Bond. Quinlan snarled and turned to her.

_“You are NOT doing this. I will not allow it.”_

Lexi was disappointed. They were past this, or so she had thought. The rage which had carried her through her transformation came back. It had not disappeared at all, it had merely been repressed. Quinlan startled and pulled away from her.

“Mister Elizalde, would you be so kind as to park at your earliest convenience?” she said.

Her voice was smooth ice.

“You got it, ma’am.”

As soon as the vehicle stopped, she exited it and Quinlan followed. They were on a deserted highway. Her back turned to him, she cracked her neck and assessed the overwhelming urge to draw her machete and jump him. She ran her fingers through white and brown hair. _No._ This was not something she could do. Not for lack of desire or ability, but because it would be wrong. She could not resent him for depriving her of her agency using his force then turn around and do the same. Love could not be corrupted by violence every time a problem arose. They were adults. _Equals_. They could use their words to resolve their problems, even those that drove them crazy. _Especially_ those that drove them crazy. Lexi had no intention of being in a relationship as dysfunctional as her parent’s marriage. Even if it lasted only a short time.

" _We just discussed this, Quinlan_."

" _It is nonsensical to put yourself in so much danger."_

" _There is no way to face the Master safely. Even the best case scenario means we die._ "

" _If you give him the opportunity, he will inflict upon you a fate worse than death._ "

" _Yes...but I accept that possibility._ "

" _I do not."_                                                                                                                 

The wings of her small nose flared.

" _Am I a doll to you that you can prop up as you wish and toss in a box when you are scared I might break?_ "

" _What a preposterous analogy_."

" _Isn't that what you did when you left me behind_?"

His scowl was almost savage.

" _All I wanted was for you to be safe. You would have never accepted to let me leave. To let me walk to my death alone_."

" _No, I would not have._ "

" _Then I was right, wasn't I_?"

" _No. You were so completely wrong_."

His hands closed into tight fists and he looked away.

" _You broke your promise,_ " she said.

That made him wince.

" _How can I trust you if every time you are afraid, you tread on my consent like this?_ "

" _I did it so you would be safe, not to hurt you_."

" _You used your superior strength to crush my will._ "

He faced her and even in the shadow of his hood, his horror was evident. But his fear was still clear in the Bond, stronger than his regret. He still thought himself justified. This was not something Lexi could tolerate. It was crucial for him to comprehend how much his actions had diminished her.

" _I will show you something. It will hurt_."

He nodded. For the first time since her transformation, Lexi reached for the dark room. That cramped place was different. More tangible. She opened her mind’s eye and found herself in a basement. It was dark and dusty. A flight of rotting wooden stairs led to a closed door and at ceiling level, on the wall opposite the steps, was a small window.

Through it, she could see the lightless vastness and Quinlan's soul. On shelves covering the brick walls rested all the monsters she had locked here. Each was contained in a jar and as the worms had, they moved as she moved. So her mind had changed as well. It was more solid, more _real._ Now that it inhabited the vastness, it had gained substance.

In that dark room, she could not hear Quinlan and that loneliness was strangling her. Even as she resented him, she wanted his presence. But Lexi had to bear that suffering just a little longer.

There was no need to peruse through the imprisoned memories. It had been the second one to ever become a permanent resident of this dark room. The dustiest shelf had to be the oldest. When she took the second jar from the left, she knew she was correct.

Holding it with only the tip of her fingers, she climbed up the stairs. Laid before the door were empty cardboard boxes and she grinned joylessly. Those were for the thoughts she only pushed in the room temporarily. She twisted the handle and Quinlan's voice immediately echoed.

" _Lexi?_ "

It was good to hear him. She hesitated as she pulled the door shut behind her. This was not a memory she wanted to relive ever again. Never before had she retrieved a recollection from the dark room. There was a good reason those tormenting nightmares were locked away from the rest of her psyche. Freeing one was a terrifying prospect.

Now she advanced in that house which was her mind. It was cozy, with old wooden furniture and a lot of clutter. She stared at the flashes inside the glass. Then she closed her eyes and smashed the jar on the floor.

 

_Lexi was shaking. She had done something mightily stupid. When a neighbor had praised her father in front of the congregated church for his donations and for being a pillar of their community, she had snorted. It had been only a month since she had slapped that Bible out her mother's grasp and since then she had thought many times about her father's violence. She despised him and that feeling had shone through at the worst moment. People had turned to her briefly when she had made that idiotic noise._

_And her father's eyes had stared at her just long enough to make her understand what type of punishment laid ahead._

_They drove back home. She jumped out of the car as it parked, rushed inside and attempted to get to her bedroom. But her legs were small and his were long and far-reaching. A clammy hand closed on her nape and yanked her back before she could climb up the stairs. This time, his rage was focused solely on her. She had humiliated him. Tarnished his impeccable image. When he grabbed her shirt, and slapped her hard she knew this time would be different because her affront had been unforgivable. So she did something she had never done before._

_She fought back._

_Screaming, she clawed at his hands, kicked and even tried to bite. But it was pointless. Lexi was just a child and even as she struggled to protect her body from his violence, she was aware of her helplessness. Her defiance angered him further. The punishment would only be more severe. His hand closed on the small neck and his fist connected with her cheekbone. Immediately, her body went limp and she fell. A ringing vibrated in her head and she could not control her muscles. The girl wondered if that was what dying felt like. Her father walked away and since the danger had passed, her mother came to her help. She cursed her own weakness and drifted._

Her real eyes opened, and she chocked on the desperation of her younger self. Quinlan clawed at his temples as if attempting to remove the memory. He grunted when it stopped pouring through the Bond. Lexi focused intensely to leash that memory again. The dark room swallowed it whole, more easily than it would have with her human mind.

With trembling fingers, Quinlan caressed his cheekbone. Had he ever felt that vulnerability? It was a special type of feeling, helplessness at the hand of those who ought to protect.

_“I understand now. Please, forgive me.”_

His pain was digging into her deeply. It was overwhelming guilt. The emotions twisted her stomach and made her dry-heave. All the moments she could recall where her heart had swelled with love for him, she gathered and applied onto his distress like a balm. Quinlan sighed in relief and shared his own. For an instant, Lexi saw a polar bear, heard the racing of a heart and observed herself trying to muffle it. Already then, he hoped and desired. Lexi embraced him, and they found each other’s lips.

“Did we stop just so you two could fondle each other?”

Lexi startled. The presence of the humans had slipped her mind. Quinlan rattled and glanced at a confused but entertained Gus.

_“We have to tell him about our…mode of communication. It’s necessary for the plan anyway,” s_ he said.

_“Agreed.”_

The couple re-entered the car in the blink of an eye.

“Holy crap!” yelped Raul, still in the passenger seat.

“I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you,” said Lexi with an apologetic smile.

“It’s ok, ma’am.”

She scowled. Gus sat behind the wheel again.

“Call me Lexi, please. You too…Gus.”

Raul nodded but still appeared worried. The Sun Hunter turned briefly and gave her a nod of agreement.

“Mister Elizalde, we can leave now. We have a plan to discuss.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“First we have to clarify something,” said Lexi.

The couple exchanged a look. How would they react to this information?

“When we stopped, Quinlan and I were discussing an issue.”

“Huh…no…you guys just stood there then smooched.”

The woman laughed at his choice of words.

“We do not require spoken words to communicate.”

Raul’s eyes widened but he stared ahead. Gus shrugged.

“Yeah…The Ancients did that too. At least you guys can also speak. What about the plan?”

“It doesn’t bother you?” asked Lexi.

“Nah, ma…Lexi”

She beamed at him and via the rearview mirror, the Sun Hunter returned the smile.

“To make things simple: we have the means to incapacitate the Master temporarily. Machines that will mess with his brain. But for that, we need to know in advance where he will be. We also need him to be in sight and unlikely to flee,” said Lexi.

“Ok. How you gonna do that?”

“Lexi will be bait. The Master thinks she is human and through the years, he has taken immense pleasure in killing the humans I cared about.”

This was what he had objected to.

“Why would he think she is human?” Raul turned to them and detailed Lexi once more.

"We have hidden my appearance and masked my Dhampir scent. The Master knows that we are together but not of my nature."

“If the Master’s people capture Lexi, he will have her brought to him immediately.”

Gus shook his head.

"Yeah, how you gonna hide that she ain't human then?”

"One of your men will pass as my captor. My face doesn't need to be identified. The human scent we used would be enough."

“In that moment just before she is lead to him. I will seek a Strigoi and make a deal with the Master.”

“Huh…”

“I will offer my life against hers.”

They were certain that the Master would not resist the appeal of destroying his sanity before killing him. And the best way would be to hurt Lexi while Quinlan watched.

“That sounds like a shit plan,” said Gus.

“That’s when you and your men become important. You need to make sure the devices I built surround us and are functioning. Once the Master, Quinlan and I are in the same location, you will activate them. Then, we will destroy his body and take the worm,” she said.

“The what?” asked Gus.

“His essence. What jumps from body to body,” clarified Quinlan.

"What the hell? He can do that?" asked Raul.

"So could the Ancients but this ability was not openly advertised for obvious reasons," said Quinlan.

"Yeah, those dicks weren't exactly the sharing type." Said Gus.

“Then we will flee with the worm and dump it into an exploding volcano.” Concluded Lexi.

Gus laughed. His eyes appeared in the rearview mirror.

“You guys have to be joking. Volcanoes don’t fucking blow on command.”

“No, they don’t, Mister Elizalde. Unfortunately, while we know for sure a nuclear explosion will destroy the Master, so does he. In the past year, he has taken possession of all those weapons. However, such natural explosions are just as destructive. Sometimes more so."

"What about just filling him with silver?" asked the Sun Hunter.

"It would hurt him but not kill him. Even direct sunlight did not destroy him. His body, the outer shell, would just be discarded," replied Quinlan.

"Crap," said Gus. He and his cousin exchanged tense looks.

“But he cannot hide entire mountains away. And volcanoes give warning signs. There are monitoring systems for active ones around the world. We need to find a way to tap into those systems, then when one is about to go off, we will set our plan in motion,” said Quinlan.

He had obviously already read some of the books she had put away.

“How the fuck are we gonna tap into those systems?” said Raul.

Quinlan opened his mouth to answer, but Gus cleared his throat.

“I’ve got a guy for this type of shit,” said the Sun Hunter.

“You’ve got a guy for volcanoes?” asked Raul.

“No, dumbass. I’ve got a guy who hid a lot of the brainiacs the Strigoi wanted dead. If any of them know of this volcano system bullshit, then the Librarian will bring them to me.”

Gus nodded to himself and bit his lip.

“I’ve been sponsoring this Librarian dude. I wanted info on the Master and he’s been tracking historians and other smart ones for me. But after the bomb went off, they were the first to be rounded up and slaughtered. We never got much intel that way."

"Historians were executed?" whispered Lexi.

"Not officially but we ain't stupid. Basically, all leaders and anyone with two brain cells to rub together disappeared quickly."

Lexi closed her eyes in mourning for those who died for the crime of carrying the accumulated knowledge of humankind.

" _This is what he does. He steals knowledge and memory. What makes a person a person. Now he will accomplish that at the scale of an entire species,_ " said Quinlan.

Raul leaned toward Gus and murmured, "You think they are chatting right now?"

" _He wants to erase humans. Domination is not enough,_ " said Lexi and she shook her head. How would humanity ever bounce back from this?


	15. Betrayal and bargaining

They drove through the night, only stopping to fill their gas tanks. Quinlan did not protest as their numbers afforded them safety and also because Lexi no longer needed protection. Both Raul and Gus slept in the back seats. Lexi had taken the wheel and Quinlan, tired from the events of the day, sat with his eyes closed. In the silence of the car and of his mind, he pondered.

The day he had shoved that needle in Lexi’s neck now appeared very different. It mattered very little what his intentions had been. His silhouette still overlapped with the horrible man as they both held onto a struggling Lexi. It was repugnant. Quinlan growled lowly in self-hatred.

“ _Quinlan…please_.”

For the third time since silence had settled in the vehicle, Lexi had to remind him to keep his feelings from overflowing into the Bond. She reached for his hand and squeezed.

“ _Perhaps I should drive. It would distract me from unpalatable thoughts.”_

_“Would you rather answer a few questions for me? If that is not distraction enough, we’ll switch.”_

_“What do you wish to know?”_

_“Why did you call Gus a Sun Hunter?”_

_“Do you recall that I told you I associated with the Ancients?”_

Lexi nodded.

“ _For thousands of years, they used both sapient Strigoi and humans. Those who could walk in the daylight to do their bidding were called Sun Hunters. Gus is the only survivor of this cast of elite warriors. Their name will die with him.”_

“ _Can we trust him if he worked for the Ancients?”_

_“He had little choice. My student, Vaun, had chosen him and would not have taken no for an answer.”_

_“Your student?”_

Lexi smiled and glanced in his direction.

“ _I taught most of those Strigoi, yes. Vaun was one of them and the one who taught Gus.”_

Out of the blue, she chuckled.

“ _I fail to see how this could be amusing to you.”_

_“Gus is your grand-student?”_

What a silly thought. She glanced again and this time her musical laugh rang clear. Quinlan loved that sound. He relaxed.

“ _So you guys worked together for the Ancients?_ ”

“ _He might have, but I never worked for them. The Ancients and I had a common goal, and we used each other_.”

Just like Lexi and Quinlan had when they had met for the first time. That seemed so very long ago.

“ _I mean, you never told me about him, only those who died in the blast.”_

_“He had left the fight before that event. In fact, he had already attempted to remove himself from the unfolding war when I found him.”_

_“You dragged him back, didn’t you?”_

_“I did.”_

He remembered that day. Seeing the Sun Hunter kiss a beautiful young woman and calling his name. Using her as a motivation, he had convinced Augustin to rejoin the cause. To protect her from the Master’s shadow, he had persuaded him to give her up. What a hypocrite he now was. Quinlan shared that memory but strived to keep his self-disgust out of it.

“ _Good God, Quinlan_.”

She grinned and shook her head.

“ _Have you ever met any of your allies…hum…nicely_?”

“ _Humans tend to react negatively to my appearance.”_

Her face fell.

“ _To our appearance, now.”_

Quinlan leaned and tucked a wavy strand behind her ear. The stripes on her temple waned within the white roots of her hair. This was not a hardship he could spare her.

“ _Yes. To both of us_.”

“ _I don’t think they were very scared today, though_.”

“ _Augustin would have told them what to expect.”_

She scratched at her eyebrow which had also turned colorless.

“ _You’re right_.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“ _They might get a little worried because I’m getting thirsty and their smells and sounds don’t help.”_

Quinlan was tired, but he had drunk the last bag just a few hours ago.

“ _Can you manage for the moment? Maybe we can hunt on the way.”_

“ _I’m sure I would be able to last several days without a meal if need be. As long as we don’t need to fight or run_.”

Quinlan lowered his window and smelled the cold night air. With some luck, they would encounter animals on their way.

 

The city sounds and smells seeped into the SUV. They would reach their destination shortly. Unfortunately, Quinlan had not succeeded in locating the scent of animal prey. He too started to feel the burn of thirst creeping. Gus was driving again and his radio beeped. A low voice came out of the crackling speaker.

“Arturo is in place. It’s clear. Drive in.”

Just like that, they were smuggled into Manhattan. The Sun Hunter relaxed perceptibly.

“You guys have some food to spare? Maybe a few Partnership bars?” asked Lexi.

Quinlan stared at her, bemused.

“What the fuck? Are you joking?” replied Gus.

 “No. But if you don’t have food to spare, I’ll manage without.”

_“Are you serious?”_   asked Quinlan.

_“Yes. Our differences lie deeper than what meets the eye.”_

_“Oh.”_

He scowled. It was idiotic to be bothered by such an insignificant distinction between them, but he was. During the fleeting moments they still had, he wanted to share everything with her and for her to do the same. This aspect of human nature would remain forever closed to him.

“Ok…we’ve got some food, but I thought…Quinlan, you too?”

“Only women Dhampir can eat human food.”

Lexi said that with such conviction that the cousins did not question it. Then Quinlan remembered that to their knowledge she _was_ the only female Dhampir. He repressed a smile.

“And only female Dhampir need shampoo or is that a wig?”

Lexi laughed out loud and that sound made him want to purr.

“No, it’s real.”

The two of them then chatted about their dinner and the sleeping accommodation they would be granted. Quinlan was unsure how he felt at the ease with which Lexi could talk with that man. No…he did not care about that per se. He simply did not want to share her. The end was too near.

“It’s a good idea if not _everyone_ inside sees you. I’ve only brought my _brothers_ to get you, but I don’t exactly trust all the men in there.”

“How do you suggest we accomplish that?” asked Quinlan.

“You can access my flat from the roof. Then tomorrow, we’ll find you another spot to stay.”

The radio beeped again.

“Gus! They aren’t fucking answering. Something is wrong.”

“ _Puta madre_ …”

“What’s going on?” asked Raul. His eyes were wide with worry.

This one was not a warrior. Quinlan could tell by the way that issue had sent his heart into frantic thumping. The Sun Hunter ignored his cousin and spoke into the radio after adjusting its frequency.

“What are you guys playing at? We’re almost at the gate! I can see the guards at the fucking window.”

There was static then a deeply unpleasant voice spoke.

“Hey, Gus…You thought you could go on a wild goose chase, and I would keep the place for you? Turn away before we start shooting.”

“Creem, have you lost your mind?”

“You snooze you lose, asshole.”

The Dhampir sighed at this inconvenient turn of events. It seemed like Augustin had underestimated the treachery of the associates he had left in charge of the business.

_“We might have to help him regain control over his black market. The plan depends on his connections, and we do not want loose ends threatening everything.”_

_“Yes. This obviously happened because of his absence. We are somewhat responsible.”_

Gus swore and barked orders into the radio. They turned around and the four cars parked several blocks away.

“That _puto_ is going to eat his shiny teeth,” said Gus with a disgusted face. He struck the wheel once in anger.

“We believe we can be of assistance,” said Quinlan.

“They’re expecting us to try something right now. Most of us haven’t slept in days. We need to regroup.”

“Can we reach Red Hook safely from here?” asked the Dhampir.

Gus glanced at him then at the other cars and their occupants. The man felt responsible for their lives, Quinlan was certain of it.

“What’s in Red Hook?”

“A safe place. At least it still was when I left it more than a year ago. This is our nearest option.”

“I don’t think we’ve got much of a choice right now. Maybe you should drive. I’ll tell the others to follow.”

“ _That’s where the doctor died, is it not?_ ”

Her thoughts were imbued with a hint of grief.

“ _It is.”_

_“Is his body still…?”_

_“No.”_

Quinlan had not taken the time to bury the man, but he had not left it there either. His final resting place was the Red Hook Channel. Now that this information unsettled Lexi, he regretted his thoughtlessness. The Dhampir took the wheel, and they departed.

 

The street was dark and deserted when they arrived. The building stood like a monument to his late owner. Like the exterminator had been, it was oversized, square and practical. Quinlan searched his metal trunk and at the very bottom, he found his collection of keys. One of them unlocked the fortified door and silently, the men walked inside. Quinlan and Lexi unloaded the SUV and brought their precious cargo to safety.

Once the heavy latch closed behind the last of their small troop, there was a perceptible wave a relief. They had been driving for more than a day before reaching New York and all were exhausted.

The space inside was large, all concrete and metal with clutter that must have once been organized. Already, some of the men explored. Someone in an adjoining room yelled “Dibs on that bed!”. But the Sun Hunter did not appear inclined to rest. Because of his actions, his men were deprived of the safety he had been building for a year. Quinlan thought that the Sun Hunter ought to be proud. For weeks, those men had followed him faithfully. Even now, not a single complaint had been uttered despite the precariousness of their situation.

“Quinlan? Lexi? Let’s talk,” he said and immediately walked to a glass and metal table in the center of the open space. Lexi’s brow furrowed slightly. Quinlan perceived her guilt when he focused. The man gathered papers and pencils then drew a detailed map of the facility which had been stolen from him.

“Here, you can only get buzzed in and at all times, there will be two guards with automatic weapons pointed at the gate.”

Straight to the point. The Dhampir appreciated it.

“That is of course if Creem even continued with the protocols in place.”

Gus' jaw tensed, and Lexi’s guilt grew deeper.

“The man is ambitious but he is a moron.”

“ _Lexi. This is not our fault. Augustin is an intelligent man, and I doubt this blindsided him. Before we arrived here, he knew the men he had left behind could not be completely trusted. He also knew where his priorities lied. Killing the Master is more important to him than his business.”_

Her hazel eyes glanced up at him briefly, and she nodded.

“There is a door on the roof and it’s not usually guarded because there is no way to climb up from the street. That’s your access point. There are UV lamps just inside but you guys can power through, right?”

“Child’s play,” replied Quinlan.

“How many men are inside?” asked Lexi.

“About fifteen. I doubt that changed much.”

Quinlan snorted at the prospect. At least they might be somewhat useful for them.

“Do you care about those men? About them dying quickly?” he asked.

“No. Those cutthroat bitches can die crying.”

Quinlan reached for Lexi’s small hand.

_“We should attempt to feed during that assault.”_

_“What? But…”_

He could taste her fear. She was terrified of inflicting that kind of suffering.

_“You have not done it yet, but we cannot steal blood within the city limits without attracting attention.”_

Her eyes rose to him and her lips disappeared into a fine line _._ Gus stared through this silent exchange and Quinlan was surprised to see concern for Lexi on his face.

“Can you excuse us for a moment?” said the Dhampir.

Gus nodded and walked away to talk to his men. The couple locked themselves inside the master bedroom under the spiral stairs. In there, everything was just as cluttered. The bed was undone. Lexi’s fear had already subsided and now there was resolve on her face.

_“Show me,”_ she said.

_“What do you mean?”_

_“How you do it. How it feels. I want to know.”_

He approached her, hungry for physical closeness. Then Quinlan selected a memory carefully. It was also in the heat of battle. That day, he had fed to regain strength.

_The warrior skewered a centurion and turned to Quinlan. The Dhampir smacked him on the head with the hilt of his sword to stun him. With an expression of mild surprise, the man hit the muddy ground. Quinlan leaned over the body. It smelled of sweat and adrenaline. The thirst burned his throat and each breath was painful because of it._

_The stinger closed around the thick neck. Small muscles inside the appendage adjusted the position of the bone to align with a usable artery. Once a proper vessel was found, the knife-life structure pierced the flesh. The stinger made a seal around the wound, and the blood poured inside of it. Muscles pumped the liquid to his throat and the burning faded slowly. Pressure had to be controlled to avoid breaking the seal. Powerful muscles adjusted it carefully with each contraction. The last pumpings of the stinger were the strongest ones, as they coincided with the dying beats of the victim’s heart. The appendage retracted and satisfaction coursed through his entire body._

Lexi shuddered in his arms. 

_“I will do it. I can do it. I even considered it when the SUVs arrived, and I thought the men wanted to hurt you.”_

Quinlan purred at that admission.

_“I love it when you are…fierce.”_

Lexi’s cheeks adopted a lovely alabaster shade. Quinlan nuzzled them and his purr grew louder. He wanted more time away from humans. Away from everything.

_“When we get there…to the volcano…if we were not followed and there is time...”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Maybe we can wait…just the two of us. No humans, no mission.”_

The woman was tempted. Her resolve wavered for the briefest of moments.

_“If we do that, we will never finish this. I know it. We cannot put ourselves in a situation where giving up would be so easy. I don’t trust myself.”_

_“Why must you be so reasonable?”_

Lexi’s laughter resonated in the room. He knew the words had reminded her of a cold day by a river.

_“One hour. My reward for finishing a lifelong mission. Is that reasonable?”_

The woman continued smiling for a moment but then, slowly, starting with her eyebrows, her face contorted in pain. She cried even as he kissed and held her.

_“One hour. Not a second longer. Or I won’t be able to finish this.”_

_“Yes. Not a second longer.”_

Smells of cooked food filled the space when they returned to talk to Gus. The men had eaten in record times. Around the table, they stood as their leader explained how the Dhampir would start the assault. He described the layout of the different rooms further as well as a few words on the different people they would encounter inside. In particular, he emphasized Creem’s appearance. The man in question sported silver teeth and would likely stand out because of it.

“You guys should just do as much damage as possible before they realize what’s happening. Then you will have buzz us in. We’ll finish them.”

A corpulent bearded man in a knitted cap and a dark-skinned lanky one exchanged looks. Quinlan did not appreciate their vaguely masked sneers.

 “Yeah, I totally believe the tall one can do that but the small…huh…woman?” said the bearded man.

He had smirked while pronouncing the last word. As if Lexi was not worthy of that title. Quinlan was instantly submerged by the desire to relieve him of his head. But he restrained himself because they needed all the help they could get. Lexi jumped on the table, ran its length and stood above the man. Sheets of papers had flown off the table in her wake and her machete brushed the tip of his nose. A guttural growl resonated from her chest and filled the sudden silence.

“I am not bound by the limitations of your kind, _human,_ ” she said with a low voice.

Shivers ran down Quinlan’s spine and the desire for violence vanished. He grinned at the distraught face of that foolish man.

“Ok, let’s calm down here. You two have the same methods, heh?” said Gus while scratching his temple with a finger.

Gus seemed particularly tired in that instant. The Dhampir raised a brow and recalled how he had snapped the neck of a man more than a year ago, in this very city and also in front of the Sun Hunter.

“Not exactly, Mister Elizalde. He is _still_ alive, is he not?”

Lexi sprinted back to his side, scowling. She grimaced and touched her throat.

“ _I should not have done that,_ ” she shared.

“You ain’t gonna give a speech, Lexi? To motivate the troops?” asked Gus.

“No, that’s not my style. I am going to assume that everyone here is smart enough to realize that we all share the same goal. I will also assume that we will all do _everything_ that is necessary to achieve it. None of you are children who need to be convinced to do their duty.”

All the men nodded gravely, even the one standing at the very end of the table and discretely rubbing his nose.

“Besides, I doubt you’d have selected men unable to understand this from the start.”

She smiled, and the Hunter flashed white teeth back at her.

_“Is this flattery necessary?”_

_“I was about to maim one of his friends. After he crossed the country to find you and lost his business because of that. Kind words are the least I can do.”_

“We can proceed tomorrow during the sunlight hours. Humans tend to relax during that time,” announced Quinlan to the room.

“What he said!” confirmed Gus. “Let’s get some rest, _cabrones_.”

He amicably patted the back of the corpulent man as they turned away.

Quinlan brought his trunk and the jamming devices to the bedroom. He trusted no one but Lexi around the machines. Eventually, he would have to let the humans have them but not yet. Everything in good time. His companion was in the shower, humming softly to herself. He put his possessions back in order. The trunk had been a mess. After locking the heavy bedroom door, he undressed and joined her.

 


	16. First bite

Lexi woke up starving. Her stomach grumbled and her throat was scorched as if she had swallowed battery acid. The violence of those sensations was shocking. She went to the bathroom and drank directly from the tap in a desperate attempt at calming the fire. It did nothing beside frustrating her. Downstairs, the men moved and chatted and the beating of each of their hearts was torture. Quinlan had been pulled from his slumber by her distress spilling inside the Bond.

“ _Lexi, please stay here. I do not believe it is safe for you to be around humans at this moment_.”

He caressed her shoulders, and she looked up at his reflection in the dirty mirror.

“ _How am I going to be of any use today? I don’t even think I could run right now.”_

_“I will ask Augustin for help. We will not require much. Just enough for us to infiltrate the building and after that, the problem will solve itself.”_

Lexi reached for two memories to share. In the first recollection, a drop of blood appeared on her hand and in the second another drop rolled from her mouth. Then as she gave them to him, she apologized for making him suffer that way.

“ _I will accept your apology for the first, but the second one I amply deserved.”_

Quinlan kissed her temple then dressed quickly and left the bedroom. Lexi followed his footsteps and his words anxiously.

“Mister Elizalde, a word?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Both walked to the space just under the staircase.

“An issue has arisen which will need to be resolved before our departure.”

“What’s going on?”

“Lexi requires sustenance or her abilities will become significantly diminished.”

More footsteps and Gus sighed.

“She was fine last night with that little demonstration.”

“Unfortunately, this, in addition to several days of undernourishment, are the cause of this issue.”

Lexi felt like a complete idiot. Dhampir speed was taxing and she should have saved her strength. Inexperience in these matters was obviously a problem.

“How much?”

“Ideally a pint but half of that amount would suffice.”

“OK, at least that’s not much. Good thing she ain’t as big as you are, Quinlan.”

“We will secure larger amounts as we retake your building.”

Gus’ heartbeat accelerated which was incredibly distracting.

“Well, sucks to be them.”

There was a moment of silence then Gus spoke again.

“Let me handle that. Maybe some of them will understand.”

The Sun Hunter walked to his gathered men.

“Alright, guys! I need volunteers for something you ain’t gonna like!”

“Shoot!” replied an unfamiliar voice.

“The lady won’t be able to fight without some blood first.”

A tense silence fell on the room.

“I also prefer my blood inside my body, but I don’t mind giving up some if it means Creem ends up losing _all_ of his.”

Some of the men chuckled at that remark.

“I’m in, couz’,” said Raul.

“My man!” said Gus there was a slapping sound. He had tapped his cousin on the back.

“Me too.”

This voice Lexi recognized as well. It was the man she had threatened with her machete. Intrigued by this, she approached the bedroom door to listen more closely.

“You sure, Gordo?”

“Yeah. I’m kinda scared she might decide to just drink me completely otherwise. Cause I was dick.”

Lexi laughed out loud and in the general silence, her voice echoed through the building. That irritated her throat further, and she made a wry face.

“ _Fuck_ , she heard me,” said Gordo.

There was a cacophony of laughter. More unknown voices agreed to donate blood.

“ _I will show them some of the medical equipment the doctor had here.”_

“ _Thank you.”_

_“Beloved…I think you solved the matter yourself.”_

Lexi relaxed and stopped focusing on the sounds below. Instead, she distracted herself by taking the honing stone from the metal trunk and working on her machete. It did not take as long as she had hoped. She returned to the bathroom and begun tying her hair into a tight French braid. It was challenging and managed to take some of her concentration away from the fire in her neck. Her ears and the jewelry adorning them became particularly obvious. The shallow swirls on her throat were merely light pink, a visual reminder of her thirst.

Heavy footsteps approached. Lexi sighed in relief. Quinlan entered the bedroom with a bottle tucked under his arm while also holding a plate covered with food. He closed the door behind him then suspended his gesture when he saw her.

“ _Are you alright?”_ she asked and crossed the room.

_“You look…stunning.”_

She accepted the compliment with a smile and despite herself started purring. It _hurt._ The rumbling stopped immediately.

“ _Here… Augustin insisted on you getting human food as well.”_

Lexi downed the bottle of blood in seconds. The thirst subsided and a wave of warmth originating from her throat traversed her entire body. Quinlan’s reaction to drinking her donation the night they had met suddenly appeared mild.

“ _Maybe I can take that downstairs and thank them before I eat_?”

“ _Yes…your thirst seems under control for the moment.”_

They joined the group of men who were still eating at the glass table.

“You good?” asked Gus.

“Yes, thank you all. Truly.”

There were nods and dismissive waves of hands. Barely suppressing a smile, she turned to the one named Gordo.

“Especially you.”

“You’re welcome!” he said with a chuckle then scooted over so she could sit next to him. Both she and Quinlan sat down at the table. The dish they shared was composed of stale tortillas and canned beans.

“We only know three of your names,” she said after swallowing a bite.

The men introduced themselves rapidly. Next to Gordo was Amir, the youngest by far and the one sporting a large scar from the top left of his forehead to his right cheek. Then Jorge and Marcus were both dark-skinned men and the latter had a thick accent she could not place. The other four men were all Hispanic and looked surprisingly similar.

Julio, Arturo, Antonio, and Miguel were in fact brothers and that fact moved her strangely. After the Fall, she was surprised that so many members of the same family had remained alive. They chatted between themselves until Amir, who had glanced at her the entire time finally spoke.

“Hey, huh, Lexi?”

“Yes, Amir?”

“How come your hair is two colors?”

Quinlan stared at him with a faint scowl. Amir shifted his position so that Gordo’s large frame would shield him from that gaze.

“ _Why are you scaring that poor man?”_ she asked him through the Bond.

The Dhampir stopped staring and looked at her instead.

“ _Why should he have any interest in your physical attributes?_ ”

“ _Because humans are very curious. I know I certainly was about you.”_

Quinlan rattled softly and she could still feel his irritation. Lexi shook her head and turned to the young man.

“Well, it changes colors with the seasons. In summer, it turns red.”

“Really _?_ ”

Amir leaned forward and looked avidly at the strands.

“No, it’s dye.”

Gordo, who had been listening to the exchange snorted then almost choked on a mouthful of tortilla. Quinlan hid a grin under his hand. The others taunted the youngest for his gullibility, and he took it in graceful self-derision.

After the meal, they prepared for the assault ahead. They left for Manhattan and during the entire ride, Lexi braced herself for what was to come.

 

Climbing the brick wall of the building was trivial. The crevices afforded them enough purchase to reach the top in under a minute. As described by Gus, the door on the roof was locked but not guarded. The couple stepped from the burning sun into the equally painful violet of UV lamps. The entire staircase leading to the top floor was flooded in their glow. At the first door, they stopped and listened. Fifteen hearts beat within the bowels of the building below.

“ _They are all gathered downstairs, unfortunately. We will have to disable most before feeding.”_

_“Swords or guns?”_

_“Hands preferably. I would rather avoid having to force Augustin’s men to clean the blood of their former associates.”_

_“That’s rather thoughtful of you.”_

It was not the time for displays of affection, but it was tempting, nonetheless.

_“You appreciate those men. So I would prefer not to antagonize them more than strictly necessary.”_

_“Thank you. Shall we?”_

_“We shall.”_

They entered a large loft almost empty because most of its contents had been thrown into a corner without care. Lexi frowned when she spotted on the floor a framed picture of Gus with an older woman. The glass was cracked.

“ _Such disrespect,”_ she said and removed her hood and glasses.

Quinlan and Lexi blurred downstairs into a common area where the men had gathered to play cards and video games. In a second, they assessed the situation. One was behind a counter at the farthest point, pouring himself a drink. His teeth shone silver. Lexi’s lips lifted savagely. A large automatic weapon was propped in front of the only uncovered window and there, a man peered outside while smoking.

“ _The one at the window needs to go first. The buzzer is next to him. Then, there are more men at the table, so I will deal with them_.”

“ _Alright, I’ll get the ones around the TV_.”

Only now did one man spot them but it was too late. They flew, slowing down as they snapped and twisted the necks of their targets. She had killed three of them when the back of her throat tickled. She still had three more to go. The next jumped to his feet as she came to him and punched him in the plexus, collapsing the bone into his heart. Her throat was burning again.

The next one was reaching for the weapon on his side, and she smacked him on the temple. He hit the floor, dead. That last target was aiming his weapon at her and she growled loudly. The crack of gunfire echoed in the large open space. He missed but only by a hair. She was already struggling to maintain her speed and her throat and body were afire.

“ _Drink him_ ,” said Quinlan.

But she had already decided before his voice boomed in her mind. Lexi jumped on the man and broke the wrist holding the gun. Then as he fell on his back, she straddled his chest and opened her mouth. The green eyes stared in horror as her tongue parted and covered each of cheeks _._ Disgusted by what she was about to do, she covered his upper face with her gloved hand. She could not take his life while he watched.

Her stinger clasped around the exposed neck. His uninjured hand was attempting to pry the appendage off. Firmly, she pinned it down. Bones snapped under her grip. The precision muscles inside her stinger worked and soon, she felt the need to spit. The sensation was familiar because she had lived it through Quinlan. She pushed, and the sharp bone pierced the skin and the wall of an artery. Blood poured and she drank deeply, pumping with each heartbeat. The relief that action provided did not attenuate her guilt and horror. Tears fell on the paling face of her victim. His entire body contracted and the heart stopped.

The blood flow was cut, and she instantly sprang away from the corpse, lest she be tempted to look at her victim’s face. Quinlan was drinking as well and by the color of his prey’s skin, it had just started.

There was just one man left standing. Lexi watched him rise from behind the bar in panic. He pointed a shotgun at Quinlan and fired. The shot hit Quinlan’s victim in the back as he used the body as a shield. Lexi’s roar sounded just as Creem aimed again. This was one was trying to _hurt_ Quinlan. To _kill_ him. The edges of her vision darkened leaving only the prey highlighted. Now, as clearly as if they had been painted on him, she could see the major blood vessels coursing through his body.

Faster than she had ever moved, she closed the distance between her and Creem. He was still aiming when she stood above him on the bar. Lexi grabbed the shotgun and threw it across the room. This would not hurt _her_ Quinlan _._ Her dearest one.

Lexi was furious at this despicable human both for his attempted murder and for betraying the Sun Hunter. The gloved fingers closed around his throat. Fresh blood gave her strength a new impetus. She lifted him above her head. The dark eyes bulged and his hands scratched and punched her hand and wrist. Silver jewelry around his digits burned her skin but not enough to make her stop.

The small stinger flew without her making a conscious effort to direct it. It closed at the junction between Creem’s stretched neck and shoulder. Blood gushed down her throat and this time, she did not care if the dying eyes stared. But the man was still moving too much and the seal of the appendage leaked. Blood dripped along the thin skin of the stinger and onto her chin. His dark skin turned ashen, and his struggle ceased. She drank until he convulsed and his heart gave out.

With a howl, Lexi tossed his body which rolled at Quinlan’s feet. His blue eyes were wide, and his jaw hung open. There was still a filter of rage above her eyes which tainted everything grey. She resented the way he looked at her at this very moment and instinctively uncovered her sharp teeth. Quinlan returned the snarl, and she was surprised to see enjoyment in his eyes.

“Lexi.”

He purred then jumped on the counter. The aggressive rumbling in her chest only subsided when his forehead pressed against hers. Downstairs, there was the metallic clank of a heavy door opening. Quinlan had already buzzed the men in. His skin against hers allayed her rage and her vision normalized when her companion pulled her closer.

“ _How I wish we could remain alone for just a moment longer_.”

He shared his desire with that thought. She gawked in bemusement. That same lust was plain on his face, and it was contagious. As she considered kissing him, the men entered the room. All had drawn their weapons but quickly realized it had been pointless.

“Well… _shit_ ,” said the Sun Hunter.

His armed hand fell and he peered around, his gaze stopping on each dead face. His lips disappeared into a fine line when he spotted Creem.

“But…we dropped them off like five minutes ago,” said Amir and he looked at his companions as if they would confirm that this scene was an illusion of some kind.

“ _Let’s help them clean up_ ,” Lexi shared to distract from her frustration.

“ _Later…_ ” replied Quinlan. He placed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She repressed a smile and jumped off the counter. Amir took a step back when she approached. She stopped in her tracks. The young man had not been scared this morning.

“Huh, you’ve got some…something on…” He pointed at his own chin.

Lexi rubbed her face and looked at her fingers. Her glove was stained with blood. Then she also noticed that the thick liquid had run down her throat and onto her black shirt. The realization that she appeared like a monster was mortifying. Gordo handed her a blue handkerchief. She thanked him and stared at her feet while she cleaned herself as well as she could.

“You can keep it,” he said and promptly walked off.

“ _They must think I am a beast_.”

She turned away as the group dragged the corpses to the service elevator. Gus was not helping them. He had gone straight for a phone behind the counter. Landlines were still active in the city and since cellphones were now useless, they had become the main mode of communication.

“ _Some of them probably do, but I have met humans who could look past their fear_.”

The Dhampir approached her, his traits softened by compassion.

“ _As you did,”_ he added.

“ _It’s stupid of me to care. We need them, but that doesn’t mean they have to like me_.”

Quinlan licked his thumb and wiped the corner of her mouth.

“ _They would be fools not to like you._ ”

From across the room, Arturo hailed the couple.

“Hey! How about you two help us with that?”

Raul, who was struggling to carry a dead man by his lonesome, nodded in approval.

“ _I do not think this one is much afraid. Or he would not have dared order us this way_.”

Quinlan’s brow lifted and he glared. Lexi took over Raul’s burden. First, they had treated her as a frail counterpart to Quinlan and that had displeased her. But now, at the complete opposite of that spectrum, she felt just as uncomfortable. At least, she would not have to contend with that issue for very long. She pinched the base of her nose at that distasteful thought.

Gus spent most of the daylight hours on the phone while the men cleaned and assessed the status of their merchandise. At the underground level, not unlike employees of a supermarket, they counted food cans, pill bottles and a range of other items. The two Dhampir helped where they could, mostly when their inhuman strength was needed. Arturo disappeared inside a vaulted room and emerged after twenty minutes, ticking things off his notepad.

“Everyone! We’ve got the numbers! Let’s head back up and see how Gus is doing,” he said and the various conversations around quieted after the first word. They all followed and when the Sun Hunter spotted them, he raised two fingers. They waited until Gus put an end to the phone call. Humans and Dhampir sat around the table where playing cards were still spilled.

“How much did the fools waste down there?” asked Gus gravely.

“Not as much as I thought, foodwise,” said Raul and he handed a notepad to his cousin.

The dark eyes went through the numbers, and he nodded. His eyes narrowed and he turned to Arturo.

“What about the vault?”

“It ain’t good.”

Awkward silence fell. Gus sighed and took the papers handed to him.

“The vault contains our silver and weapons,” commented Gus for the sake of his guests. “And it looks like those dicks had a few shopping sprees.”

He slammed the pad on the table.

“They spent a fifth of the silver. In two fucking weeks. The assholes.”

Gus put his elbows on the table and crossed his fingers tightly. He stared at the people gathered above his hands.

“Creem tried to stiff my suppliers and my clients. Since we had a monopoly in here, he could do it but that’s short term thinking. The only kind he knew.”

A vicious smile stretched his lips.

“So you guys can imagine how fucking happy they were that I was back in charge. And with me, the original prices.”

There was a wave of chuckles.

“Ok guys, no time for jerking around. There are deliveries that need to be honored. The list is by the phone. Gordo, you take care of that…”

Promptly, Gordo stood and walked to the bar.

“Amir, you’re on guard duty for now.”

The young man sprang to his feet and went to sit by the window. Gus pointed at two other men.

“Raul, Arturo, you stay here cause we need to talk. The rest go help Gordo.”

Soon, only the two Dhampir and the three men sat at the vast round table. Until this very moment, Lexi had felt very much like an outsider but now, it seemed that they were about to be clued in.

“After the city got nuked, I raided the federal reserves. With all that silver I started this little business.”

He raised his arms in a gesture that encompassed the room.

“But I don’t give much of a shit about all this. I just needed time. With my guys, for a year, we managed to get eyes all over the place. We were gonna find that creepy bastard, the Master, and riddle his ass with silver bullets.”

Lexi grinned at his confidence.

“ _He never stopped hoping,”_ she said.

“ _It would have been an honorable death.”_

Quinlan was correct, their plan would have been a hail-mary destined to fail.

“Until a rumor started that some guy had killed an entire nest of bloodsuckers all by himself with a bone sword." 

He shook his finger toward the Dhampir. 

"It could only be you, and I needed you in the game."

" _He has a lot of faith in you_ ," said Lexi with pride. Quinlan's hand reached for hers under the table. 

"But now there are two of you? The Master is so dead."

" _In both of us,_ " said Quinlan. 

"We're gonna start making the bullets and some of those nasty silver grenades I've seen before the Fall." 

He turned to Arturo.

"That's your job, man. When the others aren’t busy with the deliveries, grab 'em so they can help."

Then to his cousin. 

"You're gonna assist Lexi and make fucking sure those brain machines don't crap out on us."

Raul threw a careful look at the Dhampir then nodded. 

"How does that even work?" said a skeptical Arturo. 

His brow was wrinkled by a permanent scowl, and his hair was mostly grey. He was the oldest human present.

"It's like taking a microphone and screaming in it while two people are talking. The brains transmit an intense signal and prevent Strigoi from receiving orders from the Master."

The old man was still unconvinced, but his opinion on the matter was not particularly important.

"Our first test with the current devices was a success. The Strigoi freeze, like puppets whose strings have been cut. I have seen its effects on the Master as well. It weakens him," chimed in Quinlan. 

“I will need more brains to build additional devices.”

"How many more brains are you gonna need?" asked Gus.

"As many as we can get," she said.

For their plan to work, they would need to cover a vast surface with that jamming signal. Otherwise, it would be trivial for the Master to just rush to the humans and destroy the machines.

"Quinlan, you're with me. We need to arrange everything that's gonna happen after you get the worm.”

Lexi expected to feel irritation from her companion at being ordered that way. It did not come. The Dhampir was relieved and also somber.

" _His help will make our victory extremely swift_."

Relief at seeing the end of his mission so near and sadness at knowing that their time together was going to end just as quickly. She knew those were his reasons because she felt the same. Lexi looked away from the humans.

" _It will still take time to build the devices and the silver arsenal. Every second we do not spend working, we will be together. They need to sleep more than we do and this time will be ours_ ," she said.

Their gaze met. How she loved that face. The impossibly clear blue eyes, the deep green and black of his stripes. She even liked that scar across his cheek. Her eyes were burning as she fought back tears. How very unfair. How very cruel this all was. 

"What's up with you two?" asked Gus and he waved impatiently.

" _Tell him. I can't_ ," she said.

Quinlan detached his eyes from hers and his face kept its usual composure. 

"If our plan succeeds, we will both die with the Master. We are connected to him."

The three men stared and even the stern Arturo appeared surprised. 

"Then why are you doing this?" asked Raul. 

"Because we will never find peace while he lives."

Gus and Arturo exchanged heavy looks.

"Yeah. I get that," said the Sun Hunter.

They all did. Not a single free soul on the planet would find true peace as long as the beast was there to crush them.

 


	17. Dr. Brevil

“Two bags every two days…” said Gus on the phone the next morning.

Quinlan waited by the bar with his arms crossed. As he glanced above his shoulder, Lexi was explaining to Raul in excruciating details how the jamming devices worked. The poor man could not peel his eyes off the disembodied brains inside the transparent machines. A low voice responded through the small speaker in Gus’ hand.

“That’s insane, man. Like…that’s literally the craziest shit you’ve asked so far.”

“Do you know what I’m looking at right now, Paquito?”

There was nothing that the Sun Hunter was looking at in particular.

“No…what?”

“A stack of Julio’s fresh tortillas.”

The man on the other end of the line did not answer.

“And I’m not talking about that wheat blend bullshit that runs out there…no. This is made from real _masa harina_. The smell, man…”

Gus breathed in deeply and smiled.

“It’s like my mom’s kitchen.”

The voice grunted.

“What do you even need that for?” it asked.

“Since when do you ask questions, _pendejo_? Well shit, I guess Imma start to dig in if you don’t want them.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want the fucking tortillas!”

“You gonna deliver then?”

“Yeah…but I want fifteen with each delivery.”

“Done. Can you get the first shipment tomorrow?”

“OK. You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

“Well, I’m not the one stealing blood for tortillas. Be there at 12:30, I’ll tell you where to go at 12:00.”

“OK.”

Gus hung up then immediately picked up the phone again.

“Julio? Where you at? Get the masa harina and prepare thirty tortillas. Put fifteen aside.”

They chatted about lunch preparation for another moment then he put the phone down again.

“The guy works at a donation center. So I guess you won’t starve anymore.”

“We are most grateful, Mister Elizalde,” said Quinlan and he meant it.

“I think I need some time to read through that again,” said Raul sheepishly.

“ _Will that human be of any help to you?_ ” asked Quinlan without turning around.

“ _Eventually. He doesn’t need to fully understand the mechanisms. Just assemble them without constant supervision_.”

“You have time until we gather the components. Do not worry. We will build the first one together…and very slowly,” she said.

Quinlan grinned. She had not shown _him_ that type of patience. Lexi expected his immediate understanding of anything she explained.

“At noon we meet with the Librarian. Until then I’m gonna continue calling some favors in.” Gus typed another phone number, and Quinlan quickly lost interest. He could not help in any way. Still full of energy from the blood meal, he was restless.

“ _Would you enjoy some training while they are busy_?”

Behind him, Lexi chuckled.

“ _Bring it on.”_

_“I will fetch our weapons. Maybe you should inform them while I do so.”_

Quinlan walked upstairs and into the bedroom, they had been given. It had once belonged to Creem who had fortunately been in the process of moving his belongings. Most were in boxes. On the bed laid his sword and on the nightstand, her machete. He took his weapon but his hand hovered over hers. It was short and light which suited her frame perfectly when she was human. The fact was: Lexi was no longer human. She could afford more reach, especially as they faced the Master.

Quinlan deposited his sword back on the bed to put on his leather gloves. He slid hers into his back pocket. Inside his metal trunk rested the thin silver sword that had once belonged to Abraham Setrakian. He took it and nodded to himself. It was exactly like her. Light, agile and beautiful. When he returned to the communal space, the table, couch, and TV had been pushed against the walls. Raul had been joined by Amir and both stood by the window and whispered excitedly. Gus was nowhere to be seen.

“ _Where is Augustin?_ ”

“ _When I told him that we might train a little he decided to take calls from downstairs_.”

“ _Well, it might become distracting_. _Why are those two still here?”_

_“Amir is on guard duty but I’m guessing they wanted to watch.”_ Her grin did not reach her eyes.

“ _We can ask them to leave if that displeases you_.”

With that thought, he arrived at her position in the middle of the vast space.

“ _Amir has to stay anyways, and this is their home. Besides, they will see us move sooner or later.”_

Her eyes landed on the wolf-headed cane.

“ _Where is my machete?”_

_“I thought you might want to try something deadlier. Your gloves are in my back pocket.”_

Lexi put them on. He tossed the object up, caught the black length and turned the silver handle toward her. She took it gingerly then freed the blade and put the sheath on the table.

“ _It’s gorgeous_.”

 “ _Just like you.”_

_“Now, now, my Quinlan…flattery will not help you.”_

Her smile was mischievous, and she pointed the weapon in his direction. Under her pale lips, her two front teeth were just as sharp as his but her left canine still crooked. He imitated her fighting stance.

“ _I did not expect it would, beloved.”_

Time slowed around them without the pressure of imminent danger. It was a pleasure to run. Metal flashed and clanged together. Her little body whirled and silver darted toward his flank.

“ _You are very fast,”- he avoided the blade -_ “ _but you lack technique.”_

Quinlan hit her wrist with the bone hilt and her sword fell. She tried catching it, but he was prepared and snatched it before her. Lexi retreated with a growl. They faced each other again but this time, she had no weapon and he had two.

“ _Then share it_.”

The Dhampir cocked his head, intrigued by the idea. She had done that once, but with a small amount of information. Even then, that had been disagreeable.

“ _You might find it rather unpleasant_.”

“ _My transformation was far from a walk in the park. I cannot imagine worse._ ”

“ _Come closer_.”

He put the weapons on the floor then removed his gloves. With his bare hands, he cupped her face. She kissed the fleshy base of his thumb then looked up.

“ _Do it_.”

Quinlan focused on what made him a warrior. All the techniques he had learned as a gladiator, as a centurion, then later as a free man. For the moment, he only selected those related to sword and hand to hand combat. He did not wish to crush her with the knowledge of modern weaponry as well. It would be too much. Then he pressed his lips against her brow and tipped all that experience into the Bond. Lexi yelped. Her fingers closed on his arms like vices.

It hurt but he could bear it. This was taking longer than any such exchange had before. Her knees buckled as if all that knowledge had physical weight. Quinlan caught her by the waist and hugged until it was over.

“ _You warned me. I should have listened_ ,” she said as the shock waned.

“ _Do you regret it?_ ” He pushed hair out of her face.

“ _Not at all. But I should have prepared myself better.”_

As she communicated that thought, she pulled away with a faint grin. Her resilience made him proud. Lexi glanced at the swords and her muscles tensed. Quickly, he put his gloves back on. Her smile turned vicious. Reading her intention, he reached for the weapons before she could.

This was his first mistake. She had disappeared, and he stood with two useless blades. Powerful kicks in the back of each knee sent him to the floor, and he rolled away before she could hit him again. He had dropped his bone-hilted sword which she picked up. With a steady arm, she lifted the blade and slashed the air gracefully. Lexi stared in awe at her wrist, flicking it with ease, despite the weight of the weapon. She chuckled softly.

“ _No need to hold back anymore, Quinlan._ ”

The two Dhampir pounced and the blades sparked against one another. Quinlan had more reach, but she was nimble and could jump away as if gravity had no grasp on her. Her musical giggles echoed as well as his booming bark of a laugh. His only clear advantage was his still superior strength, so he would settle for a draw. Both swords skittered on the cement floor. Quinlan held her in his powerful arms. Lexi scowled and wriggled.

“ _Draw?”_ he asked. This was his second mistake.

His beloved smirked and her jaw dropped wide open. The short stinger shot out of her throat and punched him under the chin. He almost let go from astonishment and pain. _That little vixen._ Before she could strike him again, he projected his own stinger which clasped around the smaller counterpart. Now, neither could punch, kick or bite.

“ _Draw_.” She relented.

Quinlan loosened his hold and their stingers returned to their throats. She remained pressed against him. He kissed her temple and rubbed her back. The Dhampir looked up at the two men. Amir had just lowered his cellphone and was now pocketing it.

“ _I believe Amir has recorded our fight._ ”

She turned around and strutted toward Amir and Raul.

“What have you been doing with that phone, young man?” she asked.

Her voice was severe but Quinlan perceived her amusement. He hid a smile behind his long fingers. Raul appeared to be considering fleeing away from her while Amir only seemed mildly embarrassed.

“Well, the other guys couldn’t be here to watch so…”

Lexi extended an open palm. Without much hesitation, he put the device in her hand. Her white fingers poked at the screen and she looked at the incriminating video.

“Urg! Next time just put the phone down. This is really blurry,” she said then returned the phone to its owner.

“You ain’t gonna delete it?”

“No. But next time, do ask first.”

“Sure…sorry about that.”

“ _Is it wise to let him keep it?”_ asked Quinlan.

“ _The internet is down, and I trust he will not try to show it to some random Strigoi._ ”

“Have you finished reading the plans?” she asked Raul.

“Huh…no…I was watching you guys.”

She rattled softly and crossed her arms on her chest.

“Imma do that right now.”

He ran to the table and the pile of printed pages. Amir cackled as he sat by the machine gun in front of the window. Across the room, Raul replied to his laughter by giving him the finger.

“ _You knew he would be too captivated to read,”_ said Quinlan.

Her muscles were tensing again.

“ _Maybe_. _But now, he will actually finish studying the schematics while I turn that draw into a win._ ”

She turned to him and jumped. Quinlan laughed as he prepared for her assault.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan kept as far as possible from the passenger window of the SUV. The noon sun shone painfully as Gus and the Dhampir drove to the meeting location at the docks. The Dhampir rubbed at his forearm where a bruise inflicted by Lexi healed slowly. Quinlan smirked as he remembered her flushed face and set jaw when he had won their second fight. Even now he could still feel the biting fire of her combative mood.

“So I heard you guys exchanged some punches?” said Gus and he glanced at Quinlan still rubbing his arm. The Dhampir immediately stopped his gesture.

“Merely some friendly sparring.”

Gus lifted a scarred eyebrow.

“You know when I saw her, and I realized you were…together, I got pissed.”

The Dhampir turned to him but controlled his expression. Why would the Sun Hunter be upset by this?

“I mean…you convinced me to cut my girl loose and there you were with yours. That kinda stung you know.”

Quinlan remained quiet. Gus was not done speaking.

“But then you guys killed all those traitors and Amir showed me the video…”

Gus sighed and his lips stretched into a bitter smile.

“I guess I can see how it’s different.”

At this moment, Quinlan was relieved that Gus had no idea that Lexi had once been human. The man could not fathom the extent of his hypocrisy. _No_. Quinlan had tried to push her away and leave her in a safe place. Surely, it was not his fault Lexi had tracked him down after that? The Dhampir looked away from the Sun Hunter. Of course, it was his fault. The very moment he had leaned down to kiss her, he had sealed both their fates.

“Lexi would not let me push her away even if I tried,” he said to detract from the self-loathing that gripped his stomach.

Gus laughed and it appeared so incredibly sincere that it took the Dhampir by surprise.

“She’d kick your ass.”

“It is a distinct possibility, yes.”

The associates exchanged a look and both grinned.

 

Once they reached the waters, they sat in a rusty jon boat and navigated on the greenish waters. Faces stared from round windows of a narrowboat as they secured their embarkation to its side. A wiry old man with a mane of grey hair and a matching beard welcomed them by the boat’s steering counter. Joe nicknamed the Librarian by his protégés and Gus, had once been the provost at New York University. For the past year he had located and hidden scientists, philosophers and any other intellectual that the Strigoi hunted down. Quinlan was aware of a dozen human hearts beating on the boat. Those were likely to be some of his most recent refugees.

“Hey, can you raise that canopy man?” asked Gus as he shook the Librarian’s hand.

“Sure.”

The grey-haired man peered around the river a last time before limiting his field of vision with the waxed tarp. Quinlan relaxed in the obscurity but elected to keep his hood and glasses on. The Librarian paid closer attention to him and his bushy brows knitted together.

“What have you brought to my ship, Gus?” he half whispered, half screamed.

“You trust me, don’t you?” said Gus.

From what Quinlan had gathered so far, the Sun Hunter had shared many services with that man and taken very little in return.

“Yeah but…”

“That’s Quinlan. He ain’t a Strigoi and he gets moody when people call him that.”

Quinlan glanced at his associate. The Sun Hunter’s wit was irritating at times. The Librarian rubbed his hands together and avoided looking at the Dhampir.

“Yeah…I’m still gonna move the boat to another location when you leave. Just in case.”

The Sun Hunter shrugged, unmoved by the Librarian’s doubts.

“Dude, you do that every single time anyway. So, do you have a guy that might help us?” asked Gus.

 “I do.”

He grabbed a book from under the counter. On the cover, mount Helen exploded in an ashy cloud. Joe flipped it and presented them with the picture of a bald middle-aged man. He had black eyes over a bulbous nose.

“I got Dr. Brevil a new ID six months ago. If he is still alive, he goes by Frank Smith, plumber. Last time I heard from him, he was in Washington. The address is in the book.”

The Librarian handed the volume to Gus.

“We are most grateful…Mister Joe,” said Quinlan.

The old man’s heavily hooded eyes widened, and he nodded.

“There you go,” said Gus and he handed two duffel bags to the man.

Inside them, tin cans clanked together.

“Thank you, Gus. But you know I’ve got to ask…why do you need a volcanologist?”

The Sun Hunter winked at the old man and shook a finger in his direction.

“Come on, man, we’ve been over this. It’s better if you don’t know any of this crap.”

The Librarian grunted and nervously peered at the surrounding waters again.

“Sun is almost over. You guys better leave now. But Gus…”

He leaned forward and frowned.

“Keep Dr. Brevil safe. There are so very few of us left.”

“When we get him, he’ll be the safest he’s been in a year.”

Wearily, the Librarian rubbed his beard. He doubted those words and Quinlan could not blame him.

 

As they drove in the direction of Washington, the Dhampir flipped the pages of the book he had just been given. A sentence in the introduction caught his attention. It stated that in a single year, around sixty volcanoes erupted with varying degrees of intensity. Quinlan’s hopes that this variable might afford him time faded. At this very moment, he was glad that the Bond was stretched thin by distance because Lexi would be unable to perceive his selfishness.

* * *

 

Frank Brevil crouched on the floor with an ear glued to the wooden slats. In the corridors of the ground level, someone was systematically knocking on every door. This was never a good sign. Especially for a fugitive with fake identification papers. Two pairs of boots echoed at his own level and their owners hammered at the door nearest the elevator. Brevil jumped to his feet and dabbed his forehead with where fat beads of sweat had formed. There was still a chance that they were not here for him. He should stay and play innocent. The neighbor unlocked her flat and greeted the two strangers.

“You know that man? I’ve been told he lives in that building. He’s a plumber.”

Brevil’s heart dropped to his stomach. He wiped at his eyes that burned from the salty sweat.

“I don’t have to tell you anything. Get the fuck outta here before I call someone,” said the woman who lived just a few doors down the corner from Brevil.

“Come on, ma’am. My friend here prefers when people keep polite.”

The neighbor whimpered and profusely apologized. Frank was a very dead man. He tossed his backpack over his shoulder and exited the flat without closing the door. As discretely as he could manage, he tip-toed to the staircase a mere dozen paces away. One of the men shushed the neighbor. Brevil dirty shoe was suspended in mid-air. Footsteps advanced briskly down the corridor and were about to turn the corner. The scientist broke into a desperate run toward the staircase. They had heard him. He rushed down the steps while his heart pumped frantically to save his life. He reached the lower level and was slammed against a wall. A tall hooded man with sunglasses was pressing a hand against his chest. Immediately, Brevil raised both his hands in submission, his head was trying to disappear between his bony shoulders.

“Dr. Brevil?” asked the man. His voice was deep and he did not sound American.

“No! I'm Frank Smith!” he replied as a last-ditch effort to save himself.

The bespectacled man leaned forward and his gloved hand closed around Frank’s neck to force him to expose his face fully. The doctor tensed but did not struggle. Dr. Brevil died inside when the man pulled a heavy book from his coat. That book, Frank would have recognized in a pile of a thousand volumes. For a single good reason: he had written it.

On the back cover was a picture of his face when the few hairs crowning his bald head had still been black. When he still had some fat in his cheeks. The man held the picture next to Frank’s terrified face and the corners of his lips lifted slightly. Another man arrived, smaller, with olive skin and neck tattoos. Brevil’s first thought was that this one looked like he was part of a street gang.

“Why are you an ass to him? We fucking need him,” he told his associate.

The tall man let go of Brevil’s neck.

“He tried to running away, and I had to make sure it was him,” said the tall one without an ounce of remorse.

“Ok, let's move then. This place ain't safe for any of us.”

“What do you want from me?” asked Brevil but he already knew.

They wanted him dead. It had been the fate of all his colleagues after all. The men did not answer and dragged him outside the building and into an SUV parked there. Brevil did not attempt escaping. This _was_ the end and he welcomed it. The yearlong run was finally over. So when the tall man sat next to him and removed his glasses and hood, Frank did not much care that he was a Strigoi. This was always how it was going to end.

"Dr. Brevil, this is Augustin Elizalde and you may address me as Quinlan," said the Strigoi.

The creatures did not usually speak and were not usually polite, but it did not change anything. Monsters could be civilized as well.

"Give the man some food before he dies on us," said Augustin Elizalde as he drove away.

The Strigoi reached for a bag on the passenger seat and handed Frank bottled water and a wrapped sandwich. Real tomatoes stuck out from the white bread. Only the highest members of the Partnership had real fruits and vegetables. He had eaten scraps found here and there and rations for the past year and a half. Brevil stared at the food but did not dare take it.

The Strigoi raised a hairless brow at being kept waiting. Finally, he grabbed the scientist's hand and forced him to take the food. They drove for several hours during which Brevil savored every bite of that sandwich. He had to since this was obviously his last meal.

 


	18. Truth

The SUV disappeared inside a large building and Brevil wondered if this was the last time he would see the light of day, even if that light was dim and dusty. The black and red square symbol of the Partnership was nowhere to be seen and that only mildly intrigued the scientist. He did not need to be a genius to conclude that a secret execution facility would be kept discreet.

They parked in what looked like a warehouse. Half a dozen men ran around the space, depositing items on the numerous shelves. An older man appeared to be melting metal in an oven and that gave Brevil pause. Then again he could not expect to understand everything that would be happening in there. They might be using that building for more than a single purpose.

The Strigoi by his side was the only bloodsucker present. All the others were humans and every single one looked like a thug. They sported comfortable and dark clothing but no Partnership uniforms. After a word from Augustin, a young man with a large scar across his face shoved a bundle of clothes in his arms. They smelled freshly washed. Then he was taken two levels up by Quinlan and quietly directed inside a small bedroom with its own personal bathroom. Behind him, the lock did not click. The scientist stood in the middle of the small spartan but clean room. His greying brows almost touched as he peered around. This was very strange.

After a very hot shower that he savored just as much as the sandwich, the scientist stared at the doorknob. He was quite positive that the door had not been locked by the Strigoi. Biting his lips, he twisted the brass handle, opened the door just a crack and observed. The corridor was empty and all he could see were other metal doors. He ventured out and when he passed another opened door he pushed the steel panel and looked. It was a bedroom with piles of books in a corner and an undone bed.

“Doctor…please follow me. We need to talk.”

The scientist startled and held his bony sternum. Suddenly weak, he leaned against the concrete wall to catch his breath. Arms crossed over his impressive chest, the Strigoi waited for him to regain some composure. With the coat gone, Brevil could tell he was not built like normal Strigoi. This one was muscular and did not suffer from ticks. There was diversity in all species so this did not particularly surprise him. He followed because he was well aware that there was no point arguing.

Down the flight of stairs, they arrived directly into a large open floor which was also sparsely furnished. Pushed in a corner, two tables were co

vered with tools as well as messes of Plexiglas and wire. At the very back just before a long bar made with dark wood, stood two people. One was the driver named Augustin and the other was a woman. Then she turned around to fully face Brevil and that was no woman. She had hair and it appeared real but the rest of her was clearly not human. The female Strigoi smiled and it seemed so genuine and welcoming that Brevil felt like crying. This was not the smile of a cruel person but she was not a person. Why would they torture him like this?

"Where am I? Why did you take me here?” he asked, tired of their games.

Her smile faded somewhat and she turned to the tall one. They stared at each other until Quinlan cleared his throat.

"Maybe we should have discussed this in the car," said Quinlan and the harshness of his expression mellowed slightly.

"Don't blame Q. Brevil here wouldn't have believed him. Or me. He looks at us like we gonna eat him,” added Augustin.

"Well, Dr. Brevil to make a long story short: you've been drafted into the Resistance," said the female Strigoi.

Brevil successfully repressed a derisive snort.

"Why would you fight your own kind?" he asked.

Quinlan grunted at those words.

"We are not Strigoi, doctor."

Did they think he was blind? Their skin was as white as a corpse’s, they had red flesh on their throats and the tall one did not even have eyebrows. They were Strigs alright.

Augustin looked at the only uncovered window then at his watch. Both Strigoi focused their attention on him. The Hispanic man made big eyes, wriggled his eyebrows and pointed at the ceiling. He grinned maliciously. What the hell was going on?

“Is that really necessary?” asked Quinlan.

“No but it’ll go faster,” replied Augustin.

“Gus is right,” said the female Strigoi. “Let’s just go.”

The Strigoi grabbed their coats and all climbed the stairs to the corridor he had just left then into a large flat and from there up another stairwell. When the door opened revealing the roof of the building, Brevil understood. What a lackluster end, being hurled into the asphalt below. His body fought this idea and he attempted to return inside. Augustin caught his arm and dragged him after the two Strigoi. The light was getting brighter by the second. Both Strigoi put on sunglasses but did not seek additional protection or shelter. Immobile as the light shone on their white skin, the creatures stood unharmed.

"Why are we not burning, Dr. Brevil?” asked Quinlan.

He had no explanation but grimaced. _It’s just a trick._ Maybe they wore some protective gear on their skins? Taking his life would not be enough. They wanted to drive him insane first. The female Strigoi threw her head back and groaned. Then she took a small switchblade from her pocket. Brevil tensed. That was it.

Because he had not swallowed their lies, they would just end him right there. The scientist could not see the advantage of stabbing him over pushing him off the roof but could he pretend to fully understand Strigoi motivations? She pulled her sleeve up and slashed her forearm deeply. Both she and her counterpart made a wry face. White blood dripped on the tar roof. And that was it, just blood. Not a single worm to be seen in the milky liquid or in the open flesh. That was not possible.

"What are you?" asked Brevil.

"We are Dhampir. We are not parasites like the Strigoi and we cannot infect humans,” said the female Strigoi with a strange sadness to her smooth voice. “Dr. Brevil, please believe me when I say that you are not in any danger with us.”

Next to him, Augustin nodded and gave him an intense look under dark brows. The Dhampir pulled hoods over their heads. Like the hopeless fool Brevil was, he started hoping she was not lying.

Brevil stared intently at their faces as they made their way back to the large room with the bar. It was true that he had never seen Strigoi with hair. Or with those strange stripes on their skins. For that matter, he had never seen Strigoi with hazel eyes. Were those more than just natural variations within a species?

“My name is Lexi. Please take a seat.”

He obeyed and she sat across the table. Quinlan left the room and that enabled him to relax a little. The tall one made him very nervous. Augustin brought paper and a pencil and placed them in front of the scientist. Brevil glanced at the blank page then at the two of them.

“What do you want me to do with this?”

The female Dhampir and Augustin exchanged looks.

“You deal with that. I’ve got other stuff to take care of,” said the human and he proceeded to also leave the room.

“Well, doctor, from what we gathered about you, you know how to access and use the ASTER, the satellite system which monitors active volcanoes around the world.”

Advanced Spaceborne Thermal Emission and Reflection Radiometer was indeed in place to monitor such volcanic activity. And he was more than just familiar with it, he had helped build it.

“Yes, I do.”

Why would those people care about that? It made absolutely no sense. His suspicions came back in full force and he squinted.

“We are still unsure what you will require to access that system. Please write that down.”

Brevil stared at the pencil but did not pick it up. His lips disappeared into a fine line. The Dhampir rolled her eyes but then she chuckled. Now that was a strange vision, such a creature laughing.

“You still do not believe that we only mean to help, do you?”

Lexi simpered from across the table. Brevil did not answer right away. Was she trying to manipulate him by adopting human mannerisms?

“Why do you need to access that system? It’s of no use to people like you.”

Weird inhuman things and a bunch of gang members.

“We want to stop the Strigoi invasion and we need to access that system to achieve that…”

“I don’t believe you,” interrupted the scientist.

His eyes went wide as he regretted those words. Her lips lifted, revealing sharp teeth and Brevil cowered in his chair. But she was ignoring him as she fumbled with her pocket, extracted a blue handkerchief and applied it to her cut.

“Rest, sleep and eat until we get the items from your list. Maybe then, you’ll be ready to hear the truth.”

The tall Dhampir came back with a suture kit. She joined him at the bar and Brevil observed discretely as he wrote a few items on the page. And as he observed he _almost_ believed. Quinlan kissed Lexi on the forehead and she gave him a tender smile. Strigoi could not care for another the way they did.

* * *

 

Three days later, Brevil had barely left his bedroom. The scarred kid named Amir even brought him meals three times a day. Their conversations were just variations on a theme.

“There you go, Dr. B.. The guys are eating downstairs if you wanna join.”

“No, thank you. I’ll eat here.”

“No problem.”

The kid would shrug and leave without another word. That day when someone knocked outside of the usual meal times, Brevil opened the door reluctantly. He sighed in relief because even if it was not Amir, at least it was a human. He was large with a thick beard and a knitted cap.

“So we’ve got like a ton of equipment for you and I’ve been told you had to supervise the installation.”

“Huh?”

“A computer? Some satellite dishes? I don’t know what to do with all that so…”

Moved by curiosity, Brevil followed the man who called himself Gordo. Together they went to the roof and worked on installing the dishes. Everything conformed perfectly to the specifications he had written. This was his life's work and he was moved to the verge of tears when the first images appeared on the computer screen. Many were useless because of the dust contaminants in the atmosphere but some were clear enough to allow for regular monitoring. Familiar shapes of beloved mountains and craters made him forget for a short moment the chaos and insanity of the world.

The next morning Amir arrived with a small pile of toasts.

“Hey, you wanna take that downstairs?”

Amir already deposited the plate on the small desk and was walking out when Brevil answered.

“I’d like that.”

The young man turned around and broke into a wide grin. At the lowest level, almost all men and both Dhampir were gathered around several tables covered with modest amounts of food but more than Brevil had seen in more than a year. The female Dhampir held a pan above heating plates as Gordo stared down skeptically.

“See, you don’t need eggs or milk.”

She poured a pancake onto a plate and handed it to the large man. There was a hint of smugness on her face. The man raised a finger as he took the pancake.

“Well, we’ll see _that_ after I’m done eating it.”

“If you don’t want it…” started Julio and he reached for the plate that the large man immediately raised above his head.

“Dude…you don’t take a man’s food.”

Quinlan stood by his companion and was slicing apples on a cutting board. He frowned but Brevil was certain he had not uttered a single word when Lexi swirled around to face him. She looked at the fruit and nodded. The corners of Quinlan’s lips slightly lifted and he continued his work.

“Hey! Dr. B. is with us today!” chanted Amir as they reached the group.

“Volcano man!” A dark-skinned called.

Brevil did not yet know this one and this sudden attention made him recoil. He took a seat next to Amir and observed silently as he ate his dry toast. Gus handed him a small tub of butter. He whispered some thanks, took a little to put on his bread then resumed eating.

“Would you like one, Dr. Brevil?” asked Lexi and she lifted the pan in his direction.

He hesitated far too long.

“I’ll take it if he doesn’t want it,” interjected Gordo.

“I do believe Dr. Brevil might need it more than you do, _Gordo,_ ” said Quinlan as he gathered the cubed apples into a bowl.

The man’s jaw fell open but under his beard, there was a grin. Gordo whispered to a very entertained Gus: “Did he just call me fat?” Gus replied by patting his friend’s rotund midsection. Amir grabbed Brevil’s plate and handed it to Lexi.

She deposited two golden pancakes on the white ceramic as well as some of the cubed apples. When she leaned across the table, Brevil did the same to grab the plate.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

Brevil did not remember the last time he had eaten something sweet. He almost wanted to cry after the first mouthful. He looked around the table and doubted the people gathered here had nefarious intentions. However, he also saw no way for this band of misfits to put a term to the Strigoi invasion.

 

* * *

 

After that day, Brevil ventured more often out of his bedroom and usually sat at the bar to work on his computer and listen to the various conversations. One afternoon as he was coming down the stairs, he hesitated. There was a commotion in the communal space and he was uncertain he wanted to be a part of it.

“Hey, you kinda in the way.”

Marcus and Gordo were coming down the stairs behind him. There were sudden shouts such as the kind one would expect during a sporting event.

“Arg! We’re missing everything,” said the large man.

He took Brevil by the elbow and pulled him along as they rushed down the stairs. Amir and Raul stood by the window and were cheering at Quinlan and Lexi who faced each other in the middle of the room. Both were out of breath.

“Who’ve got the stuff?” asked Marcus and Amir nodded.

“You?” he replied

“Yeah, five pieces,” said Gordo.

The men emptied their pockets and deposited candy and chocolates on the window seal. Then as the Dhampir started moving, the scientist completely ignored his fellow humans. White flashes pierced the air as Lexi unleashed a wave of punches toward Quinlan who expertly avoided them but had to raise a defensive arm to block the last one. Brevil was unsure what happened next but suddenly, her small figure was on Quinlan’s back as she attempted to throttle him. It was bizarre, watching them grin through all those acts of violence.

Five minutes later, Lexi was pinned on the floor as Quinlan kneeled on her back. She growled loudly then ceased her struggle. Gordo swore and Amir cackled and clapped enthusiastically. Raul shook his head and reached for a chocolate bar. Amir slapped his hand away.

“If you’re too good for bets, you’re too good for chocolate,” he said and pocketed his spoils.

“You’re such a dick,” said Raul and he started across the room toward the table covered with Plexiglas and wires.

“Lex! The fuck!” shouted Gordo.

“First of, screw you. Second, don’t you have deliveries to make?” she retorted as she jumped to her feet.

Gordo’s face fell, he looked at his watch and ran to the stairs. Marcus snorted then he slapped his forehead and rushed after Gordo as Gus came up the stairs. The Hispanic man looked at his running associates and sighed.

“I swear those two are never on time. Q! Let’s go! It’ll take long enough as it is to get to the airport.”

The Dhampir nodded and exchanged a soft look with his companion. Just like that, all the violence was gone. Brevil had never seen Strigoi moving that way but what could two of them do against millions?

 

* * *

 

Days later, Raul paced nervously as there was a lot of talk about “collecting heads” around the bar. Sitting there at his computer, Brevil was quite convinced that they were talking about others just like him. And as much as he appreciated some of the men there, he was quite excited at the prospect of meeting more survivors. He had crossed path with a few, some month prior when the Librarian had helped him. But since then, nothing. In fact, he had been quite lonely.

It took some time for Brevil to notice the absence of Lexi and Raul. They were habitual fixtures of the communal room, constantly busy with power tools in a corner. Quinlan and Gus were still present, and the former paced around the room. Augustin was going through a stack of papers while sitting at the other end of the bar. The Dhampir ran to the window in a blur and stood in the waning light.

“Something happened?” asked Gus.

“No...I do not think so. They are so far that I cannot hear her thoughts.”

Brevil stopped mid-keystroke. Hear her _what?_ Quinlan made a strange clicking sound that gave goosebumps to the scientist.

“I believe I should have gone with them.”

Gus shook his head.

“We’ve got shit to do. The guys at the restaurant said Eichhorst would show up today. That German dick is gonna be so pissed when he realizes we found the Master ‘cause we followed him.”

Brevil shook his head. The words meant nothing to him. Gus looked at his watch. The sun had set and darkness was descending on the city.

Then they too had gone, leaving Brevil with his work and a bored Amir keeping guard while listening to what sounded like the audiobook of a cheesy romance novel. When the next chapter described the main protagonists in the throes of passion, the young man screamed "Freaking finally!" and increased the volume. The scientist stared at his screen and tried not to smile too widely. At dinner, they all ate at their own post.

Besides Amir still listening to his book, the others appeared tense. When Amir’s radio beeped and Gus' voice asked him to open the gate, some visibly relaxed. The Dhampir and his human associate arrived and the men gathered around them.

"So? Where is the Master?" asked Arturo.

"Central Park. At the castle. We saw him. Even looks like he has a human pet there."

“A human pet?" said one of Arturo’s brothers. Brevil was unsure which one.

"A human boy who resides in the castle. The only human there. Any news?" said Quinlan.

"No phone calls or anything. But I guess we can start monitoring the news as well,” said Miguel with a dark expression.

In the late morning the next day, the Partnership news described how terrorists were a threat to the equilibrium. Harming Strigoi did not help humans, quite the contrary, droned on a perfectly groomed blonde woman. It made Brevil sick to look at this propaganda. It also made him sick when on the screen, a group of three humans was ushered in a police station. They would be executed but Brevil knew the other Dhampir was responsible.

“They did it then, they killed so many Strigs the Partnership couldn’t bury the story.”

"Why are you doing this if that means more humans have to die?" he asked Gus who muted the sound.

"You ready to hear the truth? Lexi ain't here to cut her arm off so you believe us."

This quip made the Dhampir growl lowly.

"Just tell me."

Both him and Quinlan spoke. The Strigoi were only organized because they were like ants. One was the center of their collective mind, like a queen, and if that one died, they would also die. A single Strigoi needed to die and humanity would be saved. They even had a plan and as they spoke yet another part of it was coming to completion. It sounded like a reachable goal Suddenly, this group of misfits did not appear like a bunch of deluded albeit well-intentioned ideologists.

However, it was quite clear that for Gus, killing the Master justified any action they took. There was no remorse on his surprisingly young face. The Dhampir at that point remained quiet. He appeared to be daydreaming and that filled Brevil with outrage.

"You don't care those people will die because of you?" he asked Quinlan directly.

He took a step back when the cool eyes focused on him.

"If it were necessary to slay the beast, I would kill every single human in New York."

Quinlan looked away again.

"But rest assured that I would not take from them what I am not willing to give up myself."

With his arms crossed he stared out the window and waited.

"What is he talking about?" asked Brevil to Gus.

"He means they both gonna die with the rest of them. They all connected to the Master and when he blows..."

Brevil grimaced. In disgust at the thought of yet more deaths, and at the thought that the Dhampir he despised was ready to give his life. Brevil doubted he could walk into battle when victory was synonymous with oblivion. The fact that such a callous creature had the moral high ground was deeply unsettling.

Later that day, there was no news of Lexi or Raul. Quinlan paced the room with increasing agitation. Gus who had napped on the couch woke to a snarl coming from the Dhampir. Brevil startled at the wild noise. The Dhampir was so agitated, Brevil even avoided looking in his direction. It felt foolish to attract his attention at this very moment.

"I still cannot hear her. They should be close enough now."

Gus shook his head.

"Can you tell if they’re hurt or something?”

"No...I am unsure."

"Crap happens out there. Could be as simple as a flat tire."

"I can find her. With the Bond"

The Hispanic man jumped to his feet and raised his hands in a calming gesture.

"Yeah, she told me you might try that if something came up. She also said that if you do that the Master will find your ass and send an army."

"I can leave this place and do it outside New York."

"That's not the point. She doesn’t want you to try."

Quinlan scowled and remained quiet. The Dhampir ceased this constant pacing but glanced toward his coat and sword very often. Although Brevil disliked this one and his cold manners, he hoped Lexi and Raul were alright. Both because he now understood the importance of their mission but also because he quite liked them. As he also waited, Brevil bit through all ten of his nails.

One hour later the Dhampir gasped and rushed to the window. A faint smile spread on his discolored lips.

"Sup Q?" Yelled Gus from the bar where he had put a call on hold.

"They are coming back. They are both safe."

He closed his eyes and frowned.

"They had to hide most of the day."

Then another smile wider this time. Whatever the Dhampir was now hearing, he kept to himself.

Another hour later when the SUV was buzzed in and Lexi burst in the room, Quinlan scooped her up and with her thighs tightly pressed around his hips, she kissed the top of his bald head. Gus welcomed his cousin with much less hugging.

"You got them?"

"Yeah, we cleared three small nests. Man...it was fucked."

Then Arturo and his brothers arrived, wearing thick gloves as they carried barrels into the room. They all had revolted expressions and since Brevil was aware of what the barrels contained, he too grimaced.

"We know where the Master is in New York," Gus said to both Raul and Lexi.

"Yes, Quinlan told us. The tree cover in the park will have less interference than buildings. The devices can be ready in a few days. Then all we need is..."

All eyes present turned to Brevil who blushed violently. The only thing missing was the location of the explosion that would kill the Master. And it was his job to find out. Maybe hearing the truth had not been such a good idea. His frail shoulders were crushed under the weight of that crucial mission.


	19. Silence

Preparations were coming to a close. The three major elements of their scheme were complete. The jamming devices to incapacitate the Master, his location and the site of his death. Never before had Quinlan worked with so many humans toward killing the beast. For thousands of years, he had failed over and over again. Always a step behind his father. Perhaps this was how he had erred for so long. He had been alone.

His hands moved automatically as he slid silver bullets into clips. Next to him, Lexi glued her balaclava onto her dog collar. The strong chemical scent made her crinkle her nose. Behind the bar, Gordo read the list of today’s deliveries and pickups. On a stool almost facing Gordo, Brevil typed on his laptop. By the window, Antonio was on guard duty and utterly bored.

The day was generally quiet and uneventful but Quinlan still repressed an impression of urgency. That feeling had birthed when Lexi had found him in her novel form and grew like a tumor with each passing moment. He wanted to be alone with her, not here surrounded by humans. Quinlan was about to propose spending the rest of the day in their bedroom when Raul climbed down the stairs.

He wore a black Partnership uniform with a utility belt as well as an assorted cap. The sleeves were too long and he rolled them up.

“How do I look?” he asked to the room in general.

Gordo threw him a disgusted.

“Like an asshole,” he said. The large man took the list and made his way to the stairwell.

“Well, it works then,” said Lexi as she applied more glue between her balaclava and collar. She chuckled at seeing Raul’s face. The man looked down at the clothes and grimaced.

“I'm gonna go change before I get stabbed,” he said.

Gordo slapped him in the back as his laugh boomed in the room. Perhaps now would be the time to suggest to Lexi that they leave the communal space. Quinlan almost rolled his eyes when Amir chose this moment to climb up the stairs. His jaw was set and he sported a fresh bandage around his right hand. In his left hand, he carried a bucket full of loose silver bullets. He tossed the bucket on the table and threw himself on the chair next to Quinlan. The young man grabbed a dozen of empty clips as both Dhampir looked at him.

“Arturo said I should help you here.”

The cotton bandage did not entirely mask the stench of burned skin. What had he done now?

“What happened, Amir?” asked Lexi while the young man forced bullets in a clip.

“You make ONE mistake and suddenly you’re treated like a menace,” he grumbled.

Lexi turned away from Amir but not quickly enough to hide her smile. When her computer emitted a discreet beeping, she propped the leather collar on the ear of her chair. She walked to the next table where dozens of jamming devices were laid out in piles of three. Quinlan observed her face as she read a series of charts and tables on the screen.

“ _They are done_ ,” she said.

Sure now they could leave and be alone. Raul entered at this moment, spotted Amir loading clips and smirked. The young man noticed and took a chocolate bar from his pocket. He removed the wrapping and bit into it savagely while staring back. Raul’s smirk vanished and he mouthed a quiet “fuck you.” Quinlan’s patience was wearing thin.

“Did it finish processing?” asked Raul.

He peered at the screen above Lexi’s shoulder.

“Yes. Let’s test those three just to make sure.”

They placed the jamming devices in three corners of the room. Lexi stood in the middle of that triangle and gave a thumbs-up to Raul. The man pressed a single key and the faint hum of the activated devices filled the room. During the first testing of those machines, both Dhampir had detected a strange buzzing, as if the attic had filled with hornets. Humans had been completely unaware of it.

Of course, Quinlan had heard it before, that time in Eldritch Palmer’s penthouse when he had shoved the Master into a coffin. At the time, he had paid very little attention to it. Now he knew that those were the voices of the brains in the machines, so loud as to reach Dhampir although they were only half-Strigoi. When the Master had been injured by Abraham Setrakian, his voice had also pierced through. It was revolting, this reminder that they were in fact connected to this abomination.

“ _Those three are also a go. We are completely done with those things now,”_ said Lexi, louder than necessary. The corner of Quinlan’s mouth lifted slightly.

“ _Beloved, I know it is a bit loud in the trap area but I can hear you perfectly_.”

Lexi gestured toward Raul and the hum disappeared.

“ _Sorry, it’s quite an annoying side-effect.”_

Amir stopped filling the clips and observed the transparent machines and the organs within.

“Why did you use plastic for those brain thingies if they are that important?” he asked.

“Because it enables us to monitor the brains constantly,” replied Lexi patiently.

“Yeah but if they are healthy when we need them can’t you maybe…I don’t know, give them a helmet or something?”

Raul shook his head and massaged his temples.

“Dude, just…no,” he said.

“Why the fuck not? Right now they look like you shake them a little too hard and our whole plan goes to shit.”

Quinlan raised a brow appreciatively.

“ _The young one is not exactly wrong_ ,” he said.

“ _Yes…brains are not the sturdiest of organs when outside of a skull_.”

“What are you proposing we do?” asked Quinlan.

Amir squinted at the devices.

“I don’t know. Some protective gear around the plastic at least.”

He then stared at the bullet between his fingers.

“Make it silver even. That should keep the Strigs away.”

“Could that interfere with their functioning?” asked Quinlan.

“We can check that now!” said Amir and he grabbed a cardboard of clips.

Lexi followed when he approached the first device and laid the clips on and around the plastic casings. Understanding his intention, Lexi finished the same process on the other two. Unconvinced, Raul stood by the computer with his arms folded.

“Light them up!” ordered Amir after rushing to the center of the room.

Raul glared and remained immobile. Lexi went to stand by the young man and gestured to Raul who activated the devices. The hum rose again and she smiled at Amir. The buzzing died down.

“And if you bolt them to the SUVs then it’ll be hard to get rid of them…”

Quinlan passed an index over his chin and despite himself, grinned at Amir’s gumption.

“He has a point,” said the Dhampir.

“ _Yes…that way it will be easier for the various teams to keep their respective devices safe._ ”

“Let’s draw what we want and the specs and Arturo will make it with the silver downstairs,” said Amir enthusiastically.

Quinlan would have to be patient as they were drawn into yet another task. The discussion grew animated as it always did when Amir was involved. His laughter was loud and mocking when he addressed Raul.

Antonio’s radio beeped and Marcus’ panicked voice screamed through the speaker. Silence fell the room as Antonio pressed the button to open the gate. Downstairs, the engine of an SUV stopped and there were more screams. Above all else, like a flare in the night, the smell of fresh blood.

Quinlan and Lexi stood simultaneously. At the back of his throat, there was the faint trace of a burn.

“Dr. Brevil, please go lock yourself in your bedroom,” said Quinlan.

The scientist should be kept away from possible danger. Brevil closed his laptop and ran to the stairs leading to the living quarters. Quinlan and Lexi rushed down the stairs. The SUV’s doors hung open and a trail of blood ran from the back seat to the table where they usually gathered for meals. Marcus, Arturo, Miguel, and Julio finished depositing Gordo onto the table. The men were staring at their injured friend and at each other, unsure how to proceed. Arturo was the first to take some kind of initiative and he trotted to the nearest phone from which he called Gus.

“ _We have to do something_ ,” said Lexi as she pulled up her sleeves.

They joined the men and instantly, she was pressing down on one of the three bullet holes in Gordo’s abdomen. The large man cried out in pain but she ignored him.

“You!”-she looked at Marcus- “Press down on those! Yes like that…but harder.”

“ _Quinlan…I need tools…scalpels, sheers, clamps, saline, suture kit, anesthetic. Lots of gauze.”_

Quinlan cringed when Gordo screamed again as he sped down the various shelves of contraband. Within seconds he gathered all that she needed. He deposited the surgical instruments on a table that he pulled within Lexi’s reach. Three men were red in the face while attempting to hold down Gordo who howled and jerked from the pain. Lexi and Marcus could barely keep the pressure on the bleeding wounds.

“ _Knock him out! The anesthetic! Now!_ ” she ordered.

He had done that before and looked down at the small bottle. Yes. This was the same chemical he had used on Lexi and he strained to recall the concentration required. He could not but he knew how much he had used on her and from that, estimated what the large man would require. He assumed Gordo would not care about the burn of the injection and he stabbed his thick neck and immediately pushed the plunger. Gordo’s eyes were bloodshot and crazed and that briefly turned Quinlan’s stomach. Within seconds, the flailing of the man’s arms ceased and his eyes rolled back. Gus arrived and stared at his friend in horror.

“Oh shit!” he yelled then clamped a hand on his mouth.

Lexi looked briefly at Gus, then back at her patient. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Of course, she would do that now, let that calmness rise from within. It was like Quinlan got punched in the stomach. This had happened once before when she had shown him that horrifying memory. Her warmth left him and the universe was cold and empty once more. Lexi frowned as she cut Gordo’s clothes apart. Then when she reached for the gauze, the frown turned into a grimace. Her head twitched violently to the side and Quinlan breathed again. She was back.

“ _This is bad…this is really bad. It distracts me not to feel you…this is bad,”_ she said and her eyes widened in panic.

Quinlan could only help Marcus press down on the injuries. The Bond was robbing her of the serenity she needed to work and that filled him with irrational guilt. Her gestures lost their confidence. She hesitated with a pair of clamps in her hand.

“ _Lexi! Listen! You can do this, you’ve done it before_.”

“ _I don’t know what to do…”_

_“Of course you do! What did you do with me first?”_

“ _I found the source of the bleeding…”_ she answered.

Her pupils dilated and Quinlan was shocked by her ability to innovate in such a situation. He too as he focused could see the blood vessels coursing through Gordo’s body. She shook her head, dropped the clamps and took a scalpel instead.

“What the fuck!” yelped Marcus when she cut at the skin above one of the wounds.

Her small hand disappeared inside the sliced flesh and her face contorted in revulsion. With her other hand, she took the clamps which she slid inside. When she removed her hand there was little bleeding left. Despite her despair and the gravity of the situation, he could not help but feel proud of her.

“ _Quinlan, get the saline going, he lost too much blood._ ”

“Marcus, press down on this wound as well,” he said.

The man tried but blood poured between his fingers. Gus’ hands slid under Marcus’ dark fingers and they each pushed on the remaining bullet holes. Quinlan prepared the IV and allowed himself a single look around the room. The other members of their crew were now lined against the nearest wall and staring intently. Raul gritted his teeth and he appeared to hold back tears. This was a familiar scene. Quinlan had lived through it hundreds of times. Those were soldiers waiting for another to die. Uncomfortable, he focused back on Lexi who had switched to Marcus’ position, repeated the process of slicing and clamping the bleeding vessels.

“You can let go, Gus, I found this bleeder as well.” She said as she finished shoving another clamp inside Gordo’s large midsection.

Suddenly she was alone, working on the still body. Quinlan felt completely useless. He had never been in the business of healing. At that moment, he regretted that lack of experience.

“ _I can’t get the stitches right…this is not like you were. His flesh is tearing and he doesn’t heal._ ”

Quinlan scowled for he had no idea what to tell her. He could not share words of reassurance if he did not mean them. Gordo’s heart was struggling to pump what little blood was left in his body. Although he knew it was pointless, Quinlan pressed on the IV bag to force the saline faster into the collapsing veins.

“Is he gonna make it?” asked Gus.

Lexi glanced at the Sun Hunter. Her face was suddenly full of determination and she moved faster. Gus' hands closed into tight fists and he turned to his men.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Some security patrol spotted us and when they scanned Gordo’s armband, they started shooting,” said Marcus. He looked down in shame.

On the table, Gordo’s heart missed several beats. Lexi made a wry face and shoved handfuls of gauze in the wounds.

“ _Get me adrenaline_!” she ordered Quinlan.

As soon as Quinlan ran back with a needle filled with adrenaline, Gordo’s heart stopped. _Deodamnatus._ Lexi whimpered and all eyes were on her again. She grabbed the needle and stabbed at the man’s chest. The heart beat again, three times. Lexi groaned and jumped on the table to start massaging his chest.

Somber silence fell on the room only punctuated by Lexi’s grunts. Raul held his face and looked away. His back shook and Amir grabbed onto his shoulder and stared as their friend lay dying. Gus’ jaw was tense and his eyes very dark. A deep growl rose from Lexi’s throat. Under her fingers, the heart remained stubbornly quiet. She held her hands together and struck at his sternum. The heart beat once, but not strong enough to send blood through the body. She resumed the massage with a snarl and Quinlan grimaced when ribs snapped as a result of her pushes. Gus bit his lip and shook his head.

“Lex…you should stop now,” he said. His throat sounded full.

Lexi ignored him. Quinlan rushed to her as more ribs cracked.

“ _Listen. His bones are breaking and his heart is not restarting. It’s over_.”

As certainly as her hands were damaging the lifeless body, her suffering in the Bond was tearing at his mind. His chest tightened painfully as he held onto her wrists. She did not fight him when he pulled her off the table. Her eyes remained focused on Gordo’s face.

“ _I did everything I could,”_ she said. Her expression swayed between confusion and pain.

“ _Yes…I know._ ”

“ _Then why is he dead?_ ”

Because doing ones best still meant failing sometimes. She shook her head and once more, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Quinlan could not blame her for attempting to quiet her distress that way. But the coolness of her absence did not come. Lexi moaned and stared at her hands covered in thick blood. The wings of her nose flared.

“ _All this blood…it burns my throat. How can it make me thirsty right now? This is sick.”_

She pulled a blue handkerchief from her pocket and wiped away at the blood. Her breathing had turned shallow and she was shaking. Quinlan could sense her gripping panic rising and he did not know how to stop it. Then she looked at the red stains on the light blue fabric and as if the handkerchief had burned her, she dropped it and took a step back. Her eyes were wide and her body tensed as she stopped breathing. Quinlan reached for his plexus as her anguish momentarily ensnared his own chest. _Oh no_. Suddenly he was immensely vulnerable, surrounded by all these humans.

“Lex?” asked Gus as he approached Gordo’s body.

Almost panicking, Quinlan picked her up and sped out of the room. In the staircase, between two levels, he hugged her tightly. She was screaming. Her lungs still clenched shut made her eerily quiet but inside this sliver of light they shared in their mind, her howls were deafening. Quinlan wanted to take all grief away. Just like he held onto her small body, he wanted to embrace her soul and remove that agony. The Dhampir closed his eyes firmly and let her voice guide him deep inside his mind. He had never been there that way. It was barely within reach even as she unintentionally showed him the way. He let his consciousness tip inside of this void he had previously carefully avoided.

Quinlan opened his eyes. He was not in the staircase anymore _._ As far as he could see there was nothing. He could feel the immensity of this space despite the total absence of indications that it spread forever around him _._ Around _them_. An urchin of light convulsed within his reach. _Lexi_. It was her but she was still unable to acknowledge his presence. Her distress echoed in the infinite space.

When he touched her light, the usual warmth had a painful bite to it. Quinlan stared at his hand. It was incredibly bright but appeared encased in a hard translucent shell that her soul did not have. He wished it away, just enough to free his hands. As the glass armor receded, his arms glowed intensely. It looked as if he was holding onto two flares.

Then he reached for her again and the sensation was similar to that day on the roof when she had stepped resolutely toward him. But on that roof, he had felt the warmth of belonging while this was the searing heat of intrusion. This was not natural nor agreeable. He knew that if he were to hold her that way too long, he would eventually lose himself and she too would disappear.

For the briefest of moments, Quinlan saw his own face through her eyes. This was not memory because at no moment in the past had his blue irises glowed that way.

Her suffering slid within the bosom of his soul where it became diluted and harmless. Then he let go and the shell reformed around his arms. Her soul had lost its sharpness, it rippled in soft waves. Satisfied, Quinlan leaned back and landed in his physical body. When he looked down at his beloved, she stared at his eyes in fascination.

“ _I saw…_ ” she said and touched her face.

“ _Me too._ ”

“ _How?”_

“ _I reached inside your light and took the agony away._ ”

But this could not happen again. What made a person, _a person_? Would she remain Lexi if he chipped away at her experiences?

_“For a moment, I didn’t exist anymore,”_ she whispered.

“ _I felt it too. I’m sorry.”_

“ _No!…Thank you for doing that but…wasn’t that just like what **he** does?”_

_“I do believe it was similar but not identical.”_

Quinlan doubted the Master would so readily observe through the eyes of his creatures if it turned his stomach that way. She pressed her cheek against his and they stayed in this position for a long while. During that time, Quinlan attempted to find the way leading to the vastness in his mind. He failed and when the frustration made him growl, he stopped to focus on the soothing warmth of her presence. When humans started moving about the building again, the Dhampir retreated to their bedroom. They washed away Gordo’s blood and as Lexi looked away, Quinlan carefully brushed the redness off of her nails. Then he waited until she fell asleep to return to the men gathered downstairs. Raul spotted him first.

“Where is Lexi?”

His stinger rattled lowly. This was none of his concern. Then he stared at the worried eyes and the way his chin still trembled slightly. Did he have the right to push those humans away from her? Did he have the right to be so selfish?

“She is asleep.”

“I know you guys are old and stuff and you’ve seen some shit but…she didn’t look alright.”

Because she was not. Quinlan’s eyes veered to the side as he recalled various instances of Lexi helping others. She often paid for that kindness with her peace of mind.

“She will recover,” said Quinlan.

Raul’s already puffy eyes filled with tears and Quinlan looked away in embarrassment.

“Please attend to the devices we left upstairs. I believe we left lying about and it would be unfortunate if someone were to trip over them.”

Quinlan waited until Raul’s footsteps echoed in the empty staircase. Gordo was already gone and so were several other crew members. There was not a single trace of the used equipment and though he could still smell blood, bleach was the most distinguishable scent in the room. The Sun Hunter leaned on a crate, stroking a knitted cap between his fingers.

“We regret deeply what happened to Gordo,” Quinlan told the Sun Hunter.

“You guys really tried. Thank you.”

But Quinlan had not left Lexi’s side to exchange civilities.

“Is this place compromised as a result of this event?”

“No. The guys were not followed and besides…”

He stood straighter.

“They’d already be here.”

The crew members who had likely been attending to the body were buzzed back inside and exited their car. Marcus was one of them and walked straight to Gus.

“It’s done,” he informed his boss.

Gus handed him the knitted cap. Marcus’ bit lowered his head while taking Gordo’s hat. The Sun Hunter enclosed his friend into a hug and Quinlan turned away, unwilling to be a witness to their grief.

“ _Quinlan?_ ” called Lexi from the bedroom.

The Dhampir returned to her. She fell asleep again as he purred loudly to soothe her. His arms covered Lexi as if attempting to shield her from the world.

The Master could know everything his children knew. He stole their memories as he robbed them of their humanity and then also took their every thought. After Lexi had found him and they had uncovered the Bond, they too could share their thoughts. Quinlan referred to both as the Sharing even if it bothered him to compare what the Master did to what he had with Lexi. Then there was the Merging. This made him grimace. It _was_ indeed similar to what the Master inflicted on his Strigoi. Right up to the glowing eyes.

Lexi whispered quietly inside her dreams and stroked her silvery waves. Just as he had told her the day they had discovered that Bond, theirs differed fundamentally from the link between the Master and his Strigoi. What bonded the Dhampir together was based on mutual respect and consent. And on reciprocation. There was no doubt in his mind that the Master had never let one of his creations see through _his_ eyes. The Master _took_ everything but gave nothing in return.

As she slept, he studied every detail of her face. Lightly, he traced the stripes of her cheeks and followed each dark undulations and the way they intersected. Her hand shot up, she smacked her own face and groaned.

“ _Tickles,”_ she whispered then fell back asleep.

Quinlan strained to repress his laughter but committed to only study her traits with his gaze.

* * *

 

The next day, Gus ordered everyone in the communal space and the couple accepted reluctantly. Their entrance was met with complete silence. By his side, Lexi hesitated to step further into the room. She looked down as if she expected her failure to save Gordo to be met by remonstrances.

“You dropped that,” said Gus and he presented her with the blue handkerchief.

The fabric was clean and folded into a neat square. Her jaw contracted as she accepted the memento but still avoided Gus’ gaze.

“Thank you,” said Quinlan on her behalf.

Gus looked at Lexi for a few seconds longer then turned to the rest of the crew.

“We’ve got a fucking problem now. Even with Gordo, we barely had enough people to protect the jamming devices when we use them against the Master. I need some ideas, right fucking now.”

There were whispers but no definite answer. Near the window Arturo eyed Brevil. The old man looked like he had not slept since Gordo’s death and his face was harsher than usual.

“Brevil is not assigned to a team yet. We need everyone, no?”

The scientist cowered and scanned the room as if a solution to his problem would appear out of thin air. Quinlan pitied that man, so out of place in all this violence and chaos.

“That’s not such a bad idea…” pointed out the Sun Hunter.

Brevil looked at him as if those words had been a signature sealing his death sentence.

“Not you, Dr. B. If the volcano blows before they get there or something like that, we’ll still need you.”

The scientist took his face into his shaky hands. Arturo looked away in disgust.

“I mean that people _like_ Brevil might help. There is a reason my contacts are my contacts. They’ve got good jobs with the Partnership and they won’t give that up to die with us.” – he snorted – “But that’s why they are useful.”

Quinlan knew where this was going and he agreed with the Sun Hunter.

“The Librarian got us Brevil but besides that, he was never really useful. ‘Cause all his people are rejects in this new shit world. He has a list of fugitives who have a lot to gain from this plan working,” said Gus.

“You want to drag other scholars into this?” said Brevil, while grabbing Gus’ arm.

Gus stared at the hand around his wrist, then slowly, at the man holding him. Brevil immediately let go and took a step back.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” said Arturo and his smile was more akin to a grimace than an actual expression of joy.

“No, it’s not,” intervened Lexi.

She looked at the blue handkerchief then put it in her pocket. All eyes fixated on her at once and Quinlan pulled at her elbow.

“ _Of course it is a good plan. We need more people or this won’t work._ ”

“What the fuck are you on about?” said Arturo.

“It’s shortsighted.”

“What are you saying?” asked Gus. He was neither annoyed nor angry but intrigued.

“Those people are needed later…for humanity to recover. Their roles should not be to fight but to rebuild.”

“There won’t be anything to rebuild if we don’t manage to kill the Master,” said Gus.

“Every time one of those people dies, that’s one fewer pillar that humankind will be able to rely on,” she retorted. “There is a good reason why the Master was targeting them…they are _important_.”

“And we’re not?” bellowed Arturo.

Both Dhampir stared at the old man. It had been quite some time since Quinlan had felt the desire to hurt one of those humans. Although Quinlan understood Lexi’s reluctance to involve those scholars, he suspected her hesitations might have been motivated by her grief.

“You are all important and everyone here will be needed to do what they do best.”

“Die with a stinger in their necks?” said Arturo.

Quinlan rumbled lowly in warning but Lexi put an appeasing hand on his arm.

“Fight. And yes, risk their lives while doing so.”

“So what? We’re stupid enough to get ourselves killed? But the smart ones are too precious to do the same? What bullshit.”

“May I remind you that you will have a chance to survive and see humanity come back from this. We, on the other hand, will not have that luxury. I guarantee you, we do not consider ourselves stupid and we certainly value our lives,” said Quinlan.

He did not bother to hide his contempt for Arturo. Lexi looked around the room.

“We all have a specific role to fulfill. But I do not believe those people belong on the battlefield.”

“With all due respect, Lex. This ain’t up to you,” said Gus as he walked behind the bar and picked up the phone.

“No, I know…” she said and her eyes half-closed in biting sorrow. “It’s up to them.”

Quinlan grimaced at the poison of her pain pouring in his mind once more.

“ _Not everyone in this war should be cannon fodder. There should be things that we keep safe, that we save. I don’t want more pointless and avoidable deaths. Even if…”_

Lexi did not finish her thought. Her head low, she walked out of the room and the agony in the Bond made him grunt until it suddenly disappeared. Quinlan sighed in shallow relief. She had rained in her emotions but those still existed, tearing at the one he loved. The Dhampir glared at the man who had cut at her with his words. For _her_ sake, he would not kill Arturo. Quinlan rushed after Lexi and found her sitting on their bed. She held her face in her alabaster fingers. He pried them off and his heart broke. Lexi was not crying, and her brow was not furrowed in anguish or pain. She appeared empty.

“ _I am very tired, Quinlan_.”

He bit the inside of his lip. How he wished he could fill her with happiness. Her dark hazel eyes became unfocused and his stomach fell. She was gone again. What she was doing was punching a hole in his head and he did not have a dying associate to distract from it.

“ _Lexi, please stop_.”

She did not reply and her eyes remained unfocused. For two thousand years, he had lived without the softness of her soul but now that he had tasted it, its absence was torture.

“ _LEXI_ ,” he screamed. His fists closed on the blanket on each side of her.

It struck him that she could not hear his thoughts. Wherever her mind had fled to was out of reach. He dry-heaved and put his head on her lap. She was in a place that only existed inside her and that only she was privy to.

“Come back…you’re hurting me,” he begged.

Lexi startled and she stroke his smooth skull. Quinlan breathed deeply as the velvet of her soul surrounded him. He was home again. The Dhampir held onto his beloved for dear life. At that very moment, he wanted to remove her from this situation. Drag her to a remote place where they could hide forever.

Let the Master have the world as long as they could have each other. Quinlan was still stronger than she was…it would not take much to hug her neck until she passed out. His arms closed tighter around her waist.

He could not do it. Because if he did, she might by his side physically but he would lose her. She would never forgive him.

“ _I am sorry…that was selfish_ ,” she said.

“ _Where did you go?_ ”

“ _I was in the dark…_ ”

A knock on the door interrupted her thought. Raul stood in the frame and leaned backward to peer in the corridor. Quinlan stood, quite unable to bear a human seeing him in such a vulnerable posture. The man entered and trotted to them

“Gus and I are gonna meet with the Librarian now.”

Both Dhampir nodded.

“Just ignore Arturo. He can be a real dick sometimes but since Gordo, he is not okay...Usually, he only yells at Amir but now it’s everyone.”

Lexi gave him a small smile that did not reach her eyes. Then the man looked back at the door and leaned toward Lexi.

“Don’t tell Amir but…”

He took a chocolate bar out of his pocket and placed it on the bed next to Lexi. She stared at him, confused. What was the human doing?

“…I know where that fucker hides all the candy.”

He grinned and patted Lexi’s back. Her smile became sincere and she took the chocolate. Quinlan’s heart pinched when her eyes turned glassy. He forced himself to stay still but wished Raul would depart now.

“But you can totally eat it in front of him. ‘Cause if he thinks _you_ found the candy stash; he won’t dare call you out. I wanna see his face when that happens.”

Lexi chuckled softly and looked down.

“Thank you, Raul. You should go, Gus is looking for you.”

“Shit,” he whispered and ran out.

When she looked up again, tears ran down her cheeks but she still smiled.

“ _He is sweet_ ,” she said.

“ _Yes…a gentle soul_.”

A puppy amongst wolves. But because he had managed to soothe her pain however slightly, Quinlan found himself respecting him for that gentleness and not in spite of it.

“ _When we were hiding from the Strigoi, he was shaking for an hour._ ”

Quinlan sat next to her then feeling it was not enough dragged her on his lap.

“ _For_ _only one hour?_ ”

Lexi laughed and rested her head on his shoulder.

“ _Then I told him that the worst-case scenario was not that we ended up killed or hurt. It was that I would have to get rid the Strigoi around and unfortunately reveal my nature. Regrettable but acceptable._ ”

She put the chocolate in her pocket and intertwined her fingers into his. Quinlan breathed deeply into her hair. The citrus scent was intense there.

“ _I thought about you and how when I was human and in similar situations, I would feel safe_ ,” she said.

“ _Do you still feel safe with me?_ ”

“ _In your arms, I always do_.”

She could not lie and he had thought that the day his side had been torn by that mongrel, she would have stopped trusting his abilities.

“ _Can we stay like this for a while longer?_ ” she asked.

He placed a kiss on the wonderful stripes of her cheek. His only wish was to stay like this forever.

“ _Of course, for as long as we can._ ”

 

 


	20. Cannon fodder

The black room in her head had failed her. Somehow the parts of her that had not been inside that room when she had changed were now forever linked to Quinlan. Shoving pieces of her new self behind that door now meant making a choice. Temporary peace without his light, or chaos with only his soul as support. Implicitly, she had expected to be able to use that ability as they faced the Master but it could not happen. Not only did she feel cold and empty when she attempted to push away her fear and pain, but Quinlan’s voice was also out of reach. Worse than that, it hurt him when she fled inside herself.

For twenty years that dark room had enabled her to live in serenity and not let the visions of her past submerge her. That was over. She would have to keep the new terrible memories on the surface. At least, Gordo’s dying gaze and the silence of his heart would not follow her for very long. _Stop thinking like this._ Lexi pushed that distasteful idea away and focused on the soothing knocking of Quinlan’s heart.

Downstairs, the man on guard opened the gate and a car drove inside the building. Gus and Raul had been the only men outside at this time so Lexi perked up at hearing the faint beating of _three_ additional hearts.

“ _It seems Augustin has already found someone,”_ said Quinlan but he made no motion indicating that he wanted to meet that person.

Lexi, on the other hand, was both curious and worried. Part of her wanted to ensure that whoever this was had been brought aware of every implication.

“ _We should meet him_ ,” she said.

“ _Her_.”

Lexi focused on the sounds downstairs and yes…the new voice sounded briefly and was clearly feminine. She authorized herself a small grin. Her desire to meet the newcomer soared. Quinlan and Lexi climbed down the stairs to the lowest level which still smelled of the exhaust fumes from the SUV. Half a dozen men observed the woman with curiosity while she spoke with Gus and Raul. She was slim and with glossy black hair tied on her nape. Slanted eyes veered toward the Dhampir and widened. Her hand flew to Raul’s side where he kept his weapon. Before the man could react, she took the gun and directed its nuzzle at the couple.

Every man present except Raul pointed their own weapons at the woman and that reaction was sufficient to stop her from firing. Lexi looked around and even if it was uncomfortable to be threatened in that manner, she grinned. Even Arturo had the newcomer in his line of fire with that eternal scowl spreading on his face.

“Those are the two I told you about and I guarantee if we have to choose between them or you, they win,” said Gus, his gun an arm’s length from her head. He pulled the hammer back which clicked ominously. Her face still cold and her gaze fixated on both Dhampir, she returned the gun to Raul. He seemed as angry as he was embarrassed. Around the room, weapons returned to their holsters.

“ _This one is dangerous_ ,” said Quinlan appreciatively.

Lexi nodded. For a human, she had moved with impressive speed. Her stance was efficient and her arm steady. There was absolutely no reason to worry about her safety because she was the opposite of the mild-mannered Brevil. Lexi had expected a poor soul, thrust into a desperate war almost against their will.

“Is she a goddamn ninja?” asked Jorge.

Antonio glared disapprovingly.

“Just ‘cause she Asian doesn’t make her a ninja you racist asshole.”

“Oh fuck you, I didn’t even see her move.”

The beginning of a large tattoo was visible under the collar of the newcomer’s shirt.

“Quinlan, Lexi,” said Gus while pointing at the Dhampir. “That’s Hinata.”

“ _Did you notice the emblems on her skin?_ ” said Quinlan.

“ _I did. Why?_ ”

Quinlan took a step forward and keeping his back very straight, bowed. Hinata bowed back so quickly, it appeared automatic. He spoke to the woman in a foreign language whose intonations were sharp and highlighted the rumbling of his voice. Lexi had no clue what he had just said but she did manage to recognize it was Japanese. Hinata answered and lifted her collar to hide the inked skin. Quinlan sneered.

“ _She is a princess. A daughter of the Japanese mob…I suspect she learned a few lessons in cruelty from them._ ”

“ _Why would she be with the Librarian?_ ”

“ _I imagine her family sent her here to study. Those tattoos would make her an outcast in her home country.”_

“So Hinata, what exactly did you do before the Fall?” asked Lexi.

“Theoretical economics,” she replied without any perceptible accent then detailed the female Dhampir rudely. Lexi uncovered her sharp teeth and growled which did not deter her. Amir pointed at the woman’s face where a thin scar spread from the side of her nose to the bottom of her chin.

“Samesies!” he said and gestured at his own scarred face.

Hinata gave him a look full of disgust.

“No,” she replied and turned her back on him.

His grin widened and he whispered in Raul’s ear, much too low for other humans to hear:

“I give her a week before she is in love with me.”

“You said I would be told the whole truth once I came here,” said Hinata to Gus.

“Yeah, we gonna do that. But for your information, you won’t be allowed to leave anymore.”

“I don’t care,” she said dismissively.

“You should, ‘cause if I decide we can’t trust you, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

She stared at him in mild surprise. The Sun Hunter held her gaze, severe and unwavering. Her thin lips stretched into a smirk.

“Alright, everyone stop gawking like morons and go do your jobs. Quinlan, Lex, let’s talk.”

They climbed up the stairs to the communal space and stood around the table.

“So, beside Hinata here we got no volunteers but the Librarian said he would look around for us. At least he seemed happy to get rid of this one.”

He pointed at Hinata who did not appear particularly concerned. Cold and focused, her eyes were still on the Dhampir. They barely shifted as the Sun Hunter told her of the Master and of their plans to kill him.

“I’m gonna have to kill Strigs when it happens, right?”

“Yeah, it might happen,” said Gus.

“Just tell me when and where.”

 

* * *

 

On that day, Gus made it very clear that everyone should keep a close eye on their new crew member. Since the jamming devices were operational, Raul did not need to assist Lexi anymore. To his dismay, he was given the task of shadowing Hinata wherever she went. Often, Lexi noticed the woman staring.

Three days after Hinata’s arrival, she and Raul entered the communal room while Gus, Lexi and Quinlan leaned over a map of the world where red dots indicated active volcanoes. Brevil stood nervously a few paces away and on another table which had once been covered with Plexiglas and wire, now laid a detailed map of Central Park and the surrounding streets.

“Outside that range, you guys would be on your own. You’d have to fly as far as you can then steal another plane or find another way to get there.”

“The range is more limited as crossing running waters is complicated for us,” said Quinlan. “It means wasting fuel and time unless we find a human pilot.”

The Dhampir looked at the volcanologist.

“We might be able to avoid such trouble if Dr. Brevil briefly takes over above those areas. Just in case the use of the autopilot is impossible.”

Brevil protested but quickly gave up. Hinata reached behind the bar, grabbed a whiskey bottle and poured herself a large glass. Raul, almost pouting went to stand between Gus and Lexi.

“You alright?” she asked Raul.

“She scares the shit out of me.”

Hinata took a deep gulp of the amber liquid then glared at the group.

“As much as I scared you?”

“No, not nearly as much.”

Gus suddenly noticed what Hinata was doing and took the bottle from her before she could pour herself another drink.

“You know how much that shit cost?” he asked and put the bottle back where it belonged.

“No, I don’t.”

His nostrils flared but his voice remained calm.

“Raul! Get her to Arturo and see if he needs another pair of hands. If he doesn’t, get her to Julio for meal prep.”

Raul groaned.

“Her and Arturo? Fuck.”

But he obeyed and joined the woman to direct her downstairs.

“Enough freeloading. You gonna pay for the crap you eat,” said Gus.

“I don’t see those two paying for what they take.”

She threw a cold gaze toward the Dhampir.

“You think I run the details of my business through you? Get out of here.”

It took a few seconds for her to stop staring and follow Raul. It was the moment the phone chose to ring. It was a very strange sound. Surreal even. This was a sound Lexi had not heard for a year and a half. Gus reached above the bar and picked up the handset. Intrigued she focused on the voice which she did not recognize.

“Gus? I’ll make this quick ‘cause I don’t like staying on shore for long. There are three people here who are also interested in joining your gang. But you will have to drive a little. After Hinata left we went further upstate so forget about calling the usual payphones, just go to Roger Island in Catskill.”

“Alright. We’re coming now.”

“Good. If we don’t see you before dark, we’ll leave.”

“That’s fair.”

Then the other man on the phone hung up. The location was several hours drive away and both Quinlan and Gus prepared to depart. Lexi discussed their flight plan in more detail with Brevil when Quinlan’s voice very suddenly quieted down to almost nothing. She grimaced and shook her head as if this would dislodge whatever was blocking her link to him. Within less than a minute, his voice came back.

“ _What just happened?_ ” she asked.

“ _I was inside the vault to retrieve more ammunition. Augustin insisted on closing the door behind us so prevent Hinata from spying its content._ ”

“ _Very well…Be safe.”_

Brevil had waited patiently through this quiet exchange as it were a perfectly normal thing to occur. On the day of the Master’s destruction, the scientist would accompany them because they might need human assistance. In addition, if they arrived after the volcanic eruption, they could not afford to return to New York. They would lay low and wait for another opportunity to kill the beast. Lexi both hoped and dreaded that eventuality.

Brevil returned to his laptop and Lexi went downstairs to assist the brothers with dinner. They were bickering again and did not bother pausing when she sat down and began peeling potatoes.

“Do you know how long it took me to find this?” said Julio as he shook a bunch of green leaves in his fist.

“I don’t give a shit, you ain’t putting it in the food,” retorted Miguel.

“This salsa without coriander ain’t worth nothing.”

“I’ve got soap that would taste better than this crap.”

Both acknowledged her presence and as one, turned to her.

“What do you think?” asked Miguel.

“I think I know better than to take a side in this,” she said and peeled potatoes with increased vigor.

When they involved Arturo after he stopped his daily metal work, his answer came quick and final.

“Use it, we are not wasting any food.”

The meal was finished shortly after and the table was set. Amir ran up the stairs with a full plate to give it to Antonio on guard duty then came back down with Brevil. During dinner, Hinata continued staring at Lexi who was starting to feel irritation from it. So the female Dhampir focused on the chattering made of small daily dramas that she enjoyed a great deal.  When Hinata spoke, not particularly loud, the other voices fell silent.

“I heard people make bets on fights between you and Quinlan.”

Amir put down his fork still covered in food. Lexi did not appreciate the sudden change in atmosphere. Gordo had been the first to propose making those bets.

“Yes, it happened a few times,” she said.

“Have you fought those men as well?”

“No.”

They had never asked and Quinlan had not hinted that he wanted to train them. She had never even considered that possibility.

“I like staying sharp. Would you like to try me?”

Amir elbowed Raul needlessly, his eyes veering from Lexi to Hinata. Raul whispered to him: “Dude, I ain’t blind.”

Perhaps some friendly sparring would stop Hinata’s invasive gaze. Quinlan was too far to ask for his advice on the matter. If he had managed to fight Lexi when she was human, surely she would manage the same without hurting their newest ally.

“After dinner, if you wish.”

For the first time since her arrival, Hinata smiled but Lexi did not find that expression appealing. The men ate quickly and the table was cleared in record time, mostly thanks to Amir.

In the communal room, the two women faced one another. Marcus, Raul, and Amir leaned against the wall near the window. Antonio on guard duty shoved earbuds in his ears and stared resolutely outside.

“For your safety, I suggest we start without weapons,” said Lexi as she deposited her wolf-headed sword on the table.

“That’s rich…you’re telling me you’re also gonna leave that stinger of yours on the table?”

Lexi rattled at the quip but as she recalled her first training sessions with Quinlan, she repressed a smile. She too had been mouthy at times.

“I will not use it, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying. Last time a Strig tried to bite me, I pulled that thing right out of its throat.”

Amir’s mouth formed a perfect “O” and he waved a hand excitedly. Hinata threw the first punch and Lexi kept her speed to a minimum. In fact, she did not outright avoid the kicks and hits, preferring blocking them. Lexi was attempting to be kind but Hinata grew more violent by the second.

“You’re not trying at all!” hissed the woman. “Strike me!”

“As you wish.”

She amped her speed by a smidge and hit her in the back. Hinata stumbled forward and her wide cheekbones turned pink. Once more, Hinata attacked and this time instead of blocking her, Lexi dropped to the floor and swiped her legs. The woman hit the floor with a cry of pain and surprise. When she jumped to her feet her eyes were wide and her mouth a fine line.

“You’re faster than the Strigs,” she whispered.

“Much…much faster.”

Her expression turned sour. That woman had never seen either Lexi or Quinlan use the full range of their abilities so her astonishment was understandable. What Lexi could not comprehend or accept was the hostility this realization had triggered in the woman. Agreeing to this fight had perhaps been a mistake. Lexi wanted to end it but Hinata jumped her again. Whatever restraint she had exercised previously was gone. She fought dirty and with the full intent to hurt Lexi. The female Dhampir forced her opponent down on her knees with an arm twisted behind her back.

“We’re done here.”

The cooks, Julio and Miguel arrived at this moment, still bickering and Lexi looked at them. It was stupid to do so because although Lexi knew the fight was over, Hinata thought otherwise. A small silver blade cut deeply into Lexi’s thigh. Instantly she let go of the woman and shrieked. The voice did not sound like hers, it was high-pitched and savage, like a Strigoi. Instinctively she jumped back and slammed into a wall. The men were running, Marcus and Raul held Hinata as Julio searched her and extracted another blade from her boot.

Lexi looked down to her leg where her flesh sizzled against the toxic metal. She grabbed at the handle and screamed again. It was also silver. Amir rushed at her and pulled the blade out of her leg. Now that the twinge in her thigh receded, Lexi could suddenly hear Hinata and the words she was hurling at her. They were in Japanese but Lexi did not need a translation. They oozed with hatred.

“Oh shut the fuck up!” ordered Marcus and he shook the woman roughly.

That was enough to distract Hinata from her anger. And she looked around the room at the men who although they still kept their weapons in their holsters were all astonished and furious. When the pain became manageable, Lexi stood and thanked Amir. He nodded briefly and stared at Hinata. His usual grin was gone.

“I will not be able to hide this from Quinlan…” she said as she approached Hinata.

“Why should I care?”

“Because he will kill you for this and I doubt he will be gentle.”

The men present all nodded in agreement. Hinata’s façade of bravado cracked a little.

“But I would prefer to avoid that. I guess I’m the nice one, right guys?”

“She’s a goddamn hippie,” spat Amir.

His scar twisted from his grimace of anger.

“So when Quinlan comes back, I suggest you show at least some remorse. To save yourself.”

Hinata looked at the men present. Did she expect they were all bluffing?

“Do you understand?”

The woman stared at her feet and Lexi sighed in frustration. Her own anger was decreasing as quickly as the pain. She was worried too about Quinlan’s reaction to afford being angry.

“Hinata…I mean it. I really prefer if this doesn’t escalate any further. Do you get it?”

Lexi let her exhaustion through because she wanted the woman to witness it. Hinata looked up then almost imperceptibly, she nodded.

“Let’s get you back to your room…but first, we will be thoroughly searching it. I guess you understand.”

Marcus and Raul who still held onto Hinata grunted in agreement. The woman was ushered away and Lexi returned to her own room. Her wound would need to be flushed before she could stitch it and she would prefer to be alone to do that.

Lexi was shaken. She had experienced being feared but not yet being outright hated. She felt weak, and strangely hot, as if running a fever. Silver wounds were also a novel experience that she could have done without. While mending her leg, Quinlan’s voice returned to its place in the back of her mind. Although it was reassuring to have him back that way, she dreaded the discussion she knew was coming.

“ _What happened? Are you safe_?” he asked immediately.

Despite the distance, he had felt her distress.

“ _I am fine but… Hinata stabbed me in the leg with a silver blade.”_

_“SHE DID WHAT?”_

His desire for violence sliced into her just like the blade had. Lexi waited patiently for his rage to cool down.

 “ _I will tear her in half.”_

_“No. It is completely unnecessary.”_

_“I disagree.”_

The anger was not abating.

“ _Please…you said yourself that she’d be useful. It’s just a flesh wound. Tomorrow it will be gone.”_

_“I have killed for less.”_

That remark irritated Lexi. She did not want to hear that.

_“We need every able bodied person we have. Please, don’t do it.”_

No more death. No more killing. Lexi was exhausted and she did not know if she could bear watching yet another person die.

“ _Promise me you will not hurt her._ ”

His reluctance was evident and had he been present, she was certain he would have been growling.

“ _Quinlan, please_.”

“ _Your request is unreasonable but I will not touch her.”_

Lexi breathed in relief. Hours later, when the gate buzzed open and five hearts exited the SUV, she did not have the strength to run to him. Marcus and Amir came up the stairs and she watched as they brought Hinata out of her bedroom. The woman was collected and the look she gave Lexi did not contain hatred. Or at least, she hid it well.

When they entered the communal space, the new people were not yet here. Lexi focused and heard their voices downstairs. Two women and a man, all fairly young. With those, she would keep a step back because this entire mess could not happen again. As she expected, Quinlan snarled loudly when he spotted Hinata. Although Lexi did not expect him to break his promise, she joined him and placed her palms on his chest.

“ _You seem tired_ ,” he said and the rumbling of his throat died down.

“ _That’s because I am.”_

Ignoring Lexi, Gus headed straight for Hinata.

“You better tell me what the fuck happened right now.”

“When I came here I thought I’d be killing Strigs, not play house with them.”

Quinlan tensed. Not wanting to test his resolve further, Lexi pulled him to the staircase and he followed reluctantly. Amir and Marcus’ voices were recounting the events in detail. Lexi closed the bedroom door, relieved that she had managed to spare Hinata from Quinlan’s ire. He stood in the middle of the room and just like her, focused on the voices below.

“So this was no accident?” said Gus.

“No,” confirmed Hinata almost proud.

Lexi cringed. She had told her to show at least _some_ remorse.

“I warned you,” said Gus.

His voice was low and cool. Lexi had never heard him speak that way and she realized her error. But she was weak and it was too late. A single gunshot echoed in the building followed by the thump of a body hitting concrete. Lexi struck the door and slumped to the floor. More killing. Always more cold-blooded violence. She sobbed and held her face.  

“ _Did you tell him to do that_?” she asked Quinlan.

“ _No, but when he informed that it was a possible outcome, I did not convince him otherwise.”_

_“This is just as wrong as killing her yourself.”_

_“Augustin made a sensible choice.”_

When he tried to touch her, she pulled away. Lexi surprised herself. At this very moment, it took huge effort not to snarl. She stood on her shaky legs.

“ _No! Do not try to justify this. The only one that needs to die is the Master.”_

_“You are blinded by your inexperience.”_

Lexi growled loudly and the claws of her stinger poked out of her mouth. She forced the appendage back in her throat and clenched her teeth. Quinlan was calm and his demeanor fueled her outrage.

“ _Wars have casualties but treating people like disposable objects is what we’re fighting against_.”

“ _It is crucial that you comprehend, Hinata had become worse than worthless. She had become a loose cannon. Lexi, I was thrust into arenas with only a few men and our wit as weapons, I have marched into the desert against the Berbers outmanned and desperate, and I have defeated the Silures in Britain on their native land. I have walked into battle thousands of times and I can assure you that doubting the intentions of my fellow soldiers would have meant defeat. For that reason, it was impossible for Hinata to fight alongside us. Now is not the time for taking prisoners, especially if they are hostile, capable and in the possession of sensitive information_.”

“ _It doesn’t matter! We’re almost done! Keeping her locked up for a short period would not have been complicated_.”

“ _It would have. It would have been manpower and food that Augustin knew he could not waste during such decisive times_.”

Her furor spiked. It blazed red hot in her mind and the edges of her vision were darkening. When she remembered the fear in the eyes of the people she had watched die, the rage became blinding.

“ _Since the moment we met you have made a point of disregarding human life and I am sick of it_.”

His scowl intensified and she knew exactly why. With this sentence, she had made this argument awfully personal. But this was what the rage demanded.

“ _I get it! Humans are insects to you. Their lives are so short that it’s very easy to shorten them just a little further_.”

He shook his head and she was unsure that it was because he wanted her to stop speaking or because he disagreed with the words.

“ _You admitted yourself that when we first met, my existence was meaningless to you. You wanted to kill me when I had just saved you._ ”

The scowl vanished replaced by discomfort.

“ _Please don’t…_ ”

“ _The only reason you bothered realizing that I was a person who deserved to live was because you were forced to. But now YOU need to understand something. Every time you kill someone, you kill me. All those people must seem very small to you, and they are. I saw your soul and how large it was. But I am tiny as well. I haven’t lived millennia, I haven’t learned dozens of languages, I haven’t experienced so much that my soul has become a sun, like yours. So when you kill someone as insignificant as I am, you kill me_.”

“ _It is not like this. You don’t understand..._ ”

“ _And I hope I never will. I’m glad I will die before I have a chance to become as comfortable with killing as you are_.”

He grimaced and shook his head.

“ _You don’t mean this_.”

She scoffed.

“ _You know damn well I cannot lie to you in the Bond_.”

Quinlan stood there, looking at her with sorrow that she did not have the strength to bear. Lexi cried out when his feelings streamed inside her mind.

“ _STOP IT!_ ”

She held her head and ran out of the room, down the stairs to the only place that would quiet the agony she had caused him without cutting him off completely. A few people spotted her but she ignored them and opened the vault and slipped inside it. When she closed the heavy door, the Bond was dampened by the thick metal walls. Had they contained lead, she would have been separated from Quinlan completely. But they were just steel, not quite dense enough. Exhausted by the twinge in her mind and that in her leg, she sat on the concrete and cried.

It was too much. And in this instant, although she still resented Quinlan for his disregard for human life, she also was guilty. Why accept to spar Hinata? She should have ignored her and walked away. Had she stayed put in the bunker just like Quinlan had wanted her to, Hinata would still be alive. The two men she had murdered on that highway would also still live. It did not matter that Quinlan had thought her actions justified, what she had done was disgusting. They had reminded her of her father and had paid that with their lives.

Creem had not deserved such a death at her hand either. The only reason she had done it had been to quench her anger. However traitorous they had been, none of the men they had killed that day deserved such an end.

Would Gordo have been spared without her here? She shook her head. No…Gordo’s death was _not_ her fault. But how many had perished because she had decided she wanted to fight in this war?

Her voluntary transformation had robbed her of part of her humanity but this constant bloodshed would surely take away what remained. She lied down on her side and held her knees tightly against her chest. She was so very tired.

* * *

 

It hurt. Her words cut deep inside. Not because she misunderstood him, but because she had gone from accepting death as inevitable to almost wishing it. And that change had been his doing. There was no time for conflict between them. Quinlan did not attempt to follow her, not even when her voice became less than a murmur. First, he needed to collect himself so he sat on the bed and breathed deeply.

Could it really be a surprise that this violence would eventually overwhelm her? Quinlan was not accustomed to this. While his previous loved ones had never been demure, they also had never been involved in his quest to kill the Master. And while she had chosen to fight, at heart, she would never be a soldier.

Quinlan recalled various instances when in the past her moral opinions had irritated him and his pain decreased. Stubbornly and despite the pointlessness of her reprimands, she had kept reminding him of what she considered cruel or unacceptable. The Dhampir had no desire to become even worse of a monster than he already was but he could not take back the brutalities he had committed so far. Though he could abstain for the days or weeks they had left.  For _her_ , he would. What about the others?

Gordo’s panicked eyes as death approached sprung in his mind and he cringed. He had been a good man and his death had been gratuitous. Augustin, Raul, Amir, Marcus…would he look away from their dead bodies as easily as he had done with other humans? Lexi had a gift for uttering words which left scorch marks in his head.

Humans were small, ephemeral creatures compared to Quinlan but their lives were no less precious to them. And her human life had been so very precious to him. When had he turned so cold to the plights of humankind? His younger self, the one who could not bear to see women suffer at the hands of his centurions; the one who had saved Tasa from them, would he despise what Quinlan had become?

He removed his leather harness and coat. Then he took out his sword and carefully honed then oiled it. During that process, Quinlan selected his words carefully. He was a monster and a murderer but he needed her to know why. That he had not always been like this and that she would never be.

His heartlessness had not started when he had been forced to kill Ancharia, his adoptive mother. No…it had come later after his time as a soldier. He had been young and complacent, choosing to marry Tasa and with her daughter Sura, to form a family.

Back then, he had been convinced that he could delay his search for the Master by a single lifetime. Working the soil, playing with his daughter and enjoying wholesome intimacy for the first time since his birth. For a short year, Qunilan had stayed away from combat, from killing, from violence. He had tasted true happiness and when the Master had yanked it out of his grasp something had shattered in his heart.

After slicing at the corrupted bodies of his loved ones, he had burned down Rome. The Master had been hiding there. He had taken Tasa and Sura’s lives and Quinlan would uncover him. Even if he had to sift through Rome’s ashes to do so. All the innocent lives lost that day did not matter because none of them were Tasa or Sura. The Dhampir had loved again after his first wife and every single time he had come to deeply regret it. But Lexi…he could not bring himself to regret.

Quinlan deposited his sword on the bed and finally certain of what he would tell Lexi, he walked down the stairs to find her. The lowest level was dark and empty when he crossed it. His footsteps echoed in this unusual silence but he was unsure she would be able to hear him. Even standing before the door of the vaulted room, he could not perceive the beatings of her heart. He entered the six-digit code and unlocked the heavy latch but did not pull on the door. Quinlan let it swing open only a crack, which was sufficient to restore the fullness of the Bond.

“ _I would like to talk to you_.”

She stayed quiet and it was for the best as he preferred to remain uninterrupted. Those thoughts, he had never disclosed to anyone and that novelty filled him with uneasiness.

“ _You will never become like me, beloved. You would not let yourself follow that path._ _In fact, our lives started so differently I am certain this path is out of your reach.”_

She still did not speak but inside the small room, the quiet sounds of her heart approached.

“ _Can you imagine how life amongst men was for me? Every time someone could see past my monstrous nature? It would not stop them from dying. In fact, it would likely mean they would suffer an untimely demise. There were always two immutable forces in my life: the Master with his desire to punish me for existing but also…the passage of time._

“ _In the beginning…I did enjoy human friendships. If those people did not die in battle or if the Master did not steal them from me…they’d wither away and their souls still slipped between my fingers. They would still leave me behind_.”

The door swung open slowly and her hazel eyes appeared from within the darkness.

“ _I pushed humans away and I turned callous. I was obliged to do so as it was the only way to remain sane. I forced myself to ignore the uniqueness of each voice that ended snuffed away around me or because of me. I had to. And yes…with the years it became easier. Somewhere along the way, perhaps it became too easy_.

“ _But I was so very lonely. My will faltered at times and if I stayed put too long it happened that I would grow attached to those who did not hate me. It never ended well. How could it?”_

She stepped outside the vault and he was relieved that her rage had gone, instead, she appeared almost sheepish.

“ _Within the walls of that bunker, I grew weak. I desperately desired a life with you once the Master was imprisoned. And after that, I would have no reason to endure the passage of time any longer. I would not have to let you leave me behind when your human life came to a close. I wanted this, an existence followed by its natural conclusion._ ”

She bit her lip and took his hand which he accepted with a sorrowful grin.

“ _But then **he** saw you and this irrational vision of mine was suddenly extinguished. So I gave you up and I thought myself righteous because you would be able to have a life with someone who could grow old with you, who could give you a family. A normal life, not one hiding in the shadows with a demon._”

She shook her head fiercely at that last word and mouthed the word “no” quietly. Quinlan’s eyes stung but he did not look away.

“ _My dearest Lexi, I never deluded myself into thinking I deserved you. From the instant I kissed you and you kissed me back, I knew how selfish I was. But during a fleeting moment, I was happy again._

“ _That happiness paled in comparison to feeling the warmth of your soul on that roof. For a split second, there were endless possibilities. For a split second, the passage of time ceased to be an enemy because you would never wither away.”_

He kissed her when the humidity in his eyes overflowed. Lexi accepted his kiss. When she hugged his neck, Quinlan breathed deeply into her hair.

“ _What a cruel joke that my enemy should now become the lack of time rather than the abundance of it._ _And I hate myself for enjoying the moments we share more than I regret that you will not get the full life you are entitled to._ _Even now, with a single word from you, I would throw my lifelong mission away to get more of that time. However, as much as my callousness and selfish desires make me a demon, Lexi, you will never be one._ ”

“ _Quinlan…you are not a demon_ ,” she said.

She pulled on her sleeve and with it wiped away the tears on his jaw.

“ _Am I not_?” he asked, unconvinced.

“ _No. Everything you desire is right here but you are still working relentlessly toward a goal that will take it away. It doesn’t matter if your thoughts are selfish, right now, your actions are not. Quinlan, that makes you beautiful to me._ ”

Those words were soothing and they could only be shared sincerely. His arms closed tightly around his precious one and his self-loathing abated a little. No…he could not bring himself to regret meeting her or to regret the transformation that would bring about her death. There was too little time to allow regret to spoil the softness of her presence.


	21. Black plume

 

Lexi stood undressed and alone in her small bathroom. Her hair had managed the feat of growing faster than ever. Regular blood meal without constant running meant more energy allotted to non-essential physiological processes. Every other day she cut the new growth. That morning she sliced off the last of her brown hair. Silver and dark strands fell into the sink and she stared. The remnants of her human past were now shed. Her pessimist side could not help but chime in: it felt rather ominous. Lexi gathered the hair and threw it in the trash.

It had been a week since Hinata’s execution and almost ten days since Gordo’s death. She had thought insomnia a problem of the past. Something she had left in the bunker along with pink skin and red blood. The memories that used to plague her slumber were locked inside that dark room and could no longer escape. But new monsters had taken their place and she could not push them away without also pushing Quinlan away.

His presence and the soothing sounds of his heart were the only shields between her and those taunting shadows. How his embrace had become a shelter shamed her. That day in the bunker she had burned from the inside out to leave her weakness behind and it had crept on her again. Was that why Quinlan held her tightly when they were alone but did not seek more? Because of her weakness? She was reading into that too much.  

In the next room, Quinlan slept deeply and she did not wish to disturb him so she stayed put and braided her hair. As he dreamt, indistinct susurrations seeped through the Bond.

The whispers turned loud and she approached him. His eyes danced under his eyelids. Lexi's head snapped back when images shot inside her mind uncontrollably. They were of the same face, a woman’s with curly black hair and olive skin. Quinlan called her name in his sleep with a voice full of anguish.

“ _Tasa!_ ”

It disturbed Lexi to witness those dreams without his consent. She leaned over him and shook his shoulder firmly. He startled and awoke.

“ _You were having a nightmare, I think. I didn't want to see but..._ ”

He pressed his palm against his eyes, and she was instantly worried.

“ _The dead were tormenting me_.”

Lexi kneeled on the bed and stroked his chest to appease him.

“ _Why were they tormenting you?_ ”

“ _Tasa, Sura, Louisa, Lydia, and Ancharia...I made a promise over each of their corpses_. _The same one every time…that the architect of their deaths would pay._ ”

His hands slid down, uncovering a brow marked with deep lines.

“ _I am ashamed to have forgotten those promises because of my attachment to you_.”

His chagrin weighed heavily on her shoulders.

“ _When you found me and the warmth of your presence surrounded me...I was ready to give up. I wanted to be with you for as long as I could. I would have let the Master win_.”

“ _You cannot fault yourself for desiring happiness,_ ” said Lexi.

“ _I_ _wanted to break those promises. They had carried me through the centuries, and I was going to throw them all away_. _I disrespected their memory._ ”

“ _You will not break your promises. You wavered but you righted yourself. They will be avenged. Maybe later you can show me your families_.”

Her head swung from left to right. Those memories were too personal.

“ _No, I'm sorry. I'm overstepping,_ ” she said.

“ _Never! Those memories, those which strengthened me for so long, I want to explore with you. And I want to walk in yours as well. If you'll have me_.”

“ _Tonight after..._ ”

His disappointment was tangible. Since they had completed most preparations, leaving their bedroom had become an increasingly difficult exercise in self-control.

“ _Maybe just a few before we go_.” She caved.

Quinlan took her hand and pressed it against his heart. An ancient memory poured inside the Bond. Lexi could perceive how very young he had been then. This version of him had known loss and heartbreak, but those had not yet accompanied his every step. The memory was of Tasa and Sura. It felt almost innocent because Quinlan had been in love for the very first time.

_Clouds masked part of the painful sun, and the family walked in the shadows of tall cypress. A girl picked up two flowers and ran at her parents. Quinlan lifted her up and accepted the present, two purple columbines. One flower he tucked behind her small ear and the other among the thick glossy curls of her mother. When Tasa smiled and her black eyes glinted, Quinlan’s heart beat a little faster._

Lexi filled with affection for this woman she would never meet. Tasa had loved Quinlan, and Quinlan had returned that love completely. Knowing of her and her daughter’s end overwhelmed Lexi with vindictiveness. That promise Quinlan had made over their bodies...she made the same one over their memories. The Master would pay for taking them away from Quinlan.

“ _Your turn._ ”

Lexi knew exactly what to share. Something good which would never spoil.

_Stephan clicked the header of the email and they both read the first few lines together. Their article was accepted in a prestigious journal. The culmination of a year of grueling work for the two colleagues._ _Her full name appeared clearly on the screen._

Quinlan’s curiosity made her interrupt the memory.

" _Seigneur? You have a very noble name_ ," said Quinlan.

It could be translated to 'Lord'.

" _I guess I do. Do you have a last name?_ "

" _I had many names... Quintus Sertorius, Candidus as well... Now just Quinlan. Please, finish your tale_."

She resumed.

_Almost an entire year of Stephan staring at her under his rimless glasses when he thought she could not see. A year of his stuttering voice when he noticed her while speaking to someone else. And a year of not a single flirty comment or any form of advance._

_Overjoyed by the content of that mail, she hugged Stephan briefly and laughed. His cheekbones under the glasses had turned pink. The dark blue eyes lingered too long on her lips. Surely, he would now lean down and kiss her. No, he stood straighter and with his size, his mouth was completely out of reach. Lexi rolled her eyes and reached for a wooden chair nearby._

_“I am quite tired of this,” she said._

_“Of what?”_

_The man was puzzled when she placed the chair between them. She stood on it._

_“Of you not kissing me.”_

_The pink turned bright red, and he was back to staring at her mouth. Until she pressed it against his._

Quinlan chuckled and sat up.

 “ _That poor man_ ,” he said.

“ _What_?”

“ _He was positively terrified._ ”

“ _Of course not!_ ”

“ _Oh but he was. He feared your rejection and I completely empathize. That fear is a knife to the heart_.”

“ _I don’t remember doing much rejecting with you._ ”

“ _No… the expectation is enough.”_

_“Don’t expect that from me...please.”_

How did he instill so much sadness in his smiles? She leaned closer, anxious to hear him laugh again, to turn that smile truly joyful. When she touched his face, the sharpness of his cheek and the scar running toward his lip, his gaze focused on her mouth. Lexi had missed that look and she was almost relieved when he grabbed her waist and made her straddle his lap. Quinlan removed the hairband tying her braid and his fingers dug into the strands, separating them. Her heart swelled when he pulled her closer and inhaled deeply into the white waves.

Lexi starved for more and covered his shoulder in kisses. Powerful muscles rolled under his skin and she stroked the valleys and hills they formed on his back. Was that why they had deprived themselves of each other? For fear of rejection? How completely inane. She shared that desperate hunger through the Bond and grinned when his breathing turned raspy.

He took a handful of hair and slowly pulled back. Her instincts screamed that she should not let his sharp teeth near her stretched neck. Shivers ran down her spine. Despite herself, she rattled in warning. Quinlan shook with quiet laughter then nuzzled the swirls of her throat. The rattle died down and she closed her eyes. He licked the pink skin and a flash of heat spread from her neck to her core. She was melting. It was physically painful not to have him inside her now.

“ _I don’t want to wait,_ ” she pleaded.

 “ _Me neither.”_

He let go of her hair and held onto the back of her thighs. Quinlan was hard between her legs. She rubbed against him until its tip slipped inside her humid flesh. When he pulled her down around his member, they grunted in unison. Lexi crushed her lips against his in an almost violent kiss. _More._

Lexi frowned and backed away from his mouth. The kiss was too much. She lost control of her stinger, and the talons escaped her tongue. Quinlan stared in fascination as she struggled to rain it back in. It annoyed her deeply to have their kiss interrupted thusly. He held onto her hips and forced them into a deep rocking motion. Lexi stared accusingly.

“ _This is not helping…at all.”_

_“It was not meant to.”_

The two halves of her tongue fully twisted and spread over her cheeks. Quinlan craned his neck in offering. Lexi still attempted to retract the stinger but the white skin was beckoning her. Impatient, he rumbled and the rocking imposed by his hold intensified. Her human inhibitions quieted down and the claws clasped the base of his neck. It was completely different from feeding. Her desire was to hold him close, not drink. The claws dug gently into the skin and he hardened noticeably inside her. As she followed the motions of his hands instead of fighting them, his eyes closed slowly. There was a faint smile on his lips.

Noises downstairs distracted her enough for her stinger to return to her throat. Quinlan groaned in disappointment. Someone was running and stumbling. Voices yelled. Half a dozen human hearts formed a rapid chorus.

“ _Something is happening_ ,” she thought and stopped moving.

“ _I could not care less_.”

Quinlan pushed her down on her back, held her wrists above her head and pounded into her. She had a small exclamation of surprise but instantly, she also could not care less about whatever was occurring downstairs.

The people there did not know that. Footsteps were getting closer. Quinlan and Lexi were the only people still in the living quarters so…

“ _Someone is going to barge in_ ,” she managed to articulate.

Quinlan snarled savagely. The door was not locked, and a human was about to be thoroughly traumatized. The Dhampir’s entire body tensed and he lifted her then he jumped out of the bed. They both slammed against the metal panel just as someone reached the handle. The human gasped at the violence of that impact.

“Amir…If you have any sense, you will walk away this instant,” said Quinlan.

His voice rumbled menacingly. Starving blue eyes stared into hers and as payback for earlier, she swayed her hips softly. Quinlan grunted and held her still.

Amir darted back down the flight of stairs without a word.

“ _Smart man_ ,” commented Quinlan.

Holding her firmly against the door, he resumed his intense rhythm. The metal was warming behind her back. Familiar twitching between her thighs made her moan. Lexi’s legs ensnared his waist to stop the enthralling movements, and she forced Quinlan deep inside her. Harder than she intended to, her teeth stabbed his neck. Under her tongue, his skin vibrated from his purr. She whimpered as her body convulsed with pleasure then went limp.

With a self-satisfied smirk, Quinlan carried her back to the bed and lied between her legs. She expected him to continue just as strongly but instead, he moved with slow and deep thrusts. Her hips matched his motions, and she stared at him in awe. The stripes on his cheeks almost disappeared as white blood rushed under the skin.

He plunged his face in the hollow of her neck and bit down gently. Relishing that feeling, she hugged his head closer. Their hearts beat violently against one another. A thundering growl shook his chest as he spent himself. When he finally relaxed and just as his bite began aching, his jaw let go and he kissed the bruising skin. They lied on their side, hugging and kissing until their heartbeats settled to normal speeds.

More voices joined the gathering downstairs.

“ _We have to check what is happening_ …” she said and observed as darker shades returned to his stripes.

He did not seem keen on the idea.

“LEX! QUINLAN! Get the fuck down here!” screamed Gus from the lower level.

The two Dhampir reluctantly dressed and joined the gathered the group. A dozen people formed a half-circle around the table and parted as the couple advanced toward them. Dr. Brevil’s laptop was the center of their attention. On its screen, a crater spewed smoke and the wind carried it into a thick black plume.

“It’s go time,” said Gus and he instantly began barking orders at the people present. The tension in the room was physical as they scattered to fulfill their respective roles.

Lexi became nauseated. She did not want this to be their last time. She had been certain they would still have today at least. That there would still be time to be in his arms. Time to share both their bodies and memories. 

“ _When the Master is locked away and we are ready to destroy him…one hour_ ,” he said. Quinlan clutched her hand, but she did not care that his hold was painful. Lexi nodded. She focused on that hour ahead, at the end of the mission. When there would only be a single task ahead: to die. Then they would collect on a true moment of peace with the certainty that they had won.

* * *

 

A pang of nostalgia gripped Quinlan as Lexi’s human scent wafted toward him. She wore her former clothes, those he had taken with him to lure the Master away from the bunker. He did not require as many preparations as the plan required him to stay recognizable. The only notable difference was a radio in his pocket. Drilling noises filled the lowest level as the humans bolted the caged jamming devices to the bottom of the SUVs’ trunks. On the wide dinner table, a detailed map of Central Park was covered with annotations. Quinlan had felt like a centurion again, guiding so many people into battle. When Raul and Amir came down the stairs dressed in Partnership uniforms, he gritted his teeth. It was time to depart.

Quinlan shed the leather harness holding his sword and instantly felt naked. For almost two millennia he had never voluntarily walked into battle without it. Lexi slid into the straps as he held them in place for her.

“ _I will return it to you very soon,”_ she said.

“ _I do not doubt you will._ ”

The two men approached but maintained a respectful distance. Quinlan disliked displaying his affection for Lexi overtly in front of humans but today, there was no time for such concerns. He pressed his forehead against hers and breathed in the strange mixture of her Dhampir and human perfume. Her hands, trembling slightly, slid underneath his coat to grab at the back of his vest. It was fortunate they did not require spoken words because his throat could not have managed them.

“ _If something happens…_ ” she started and he shook his head. He did not want to hear that.

“ _Listen, please…If something happens I just want you to know that by far, you were the strangest and most wonderful man I’ve ever met_.”

She kissed him, and he tasted the saltiness of her tears. His hold around her turned desperate.

“ _Lexi, to meet you again, I would walk the Earth for another two thousand years._ ”

She moaned and hid her face against his chest. Then she walked away with Amir and Raul. The next time they would look at each other again, it would be in the presence of the Master.

Quinlan left the building by himself and marched into the empty streets of Manhattan. The low temperature did not affect him, but he could still clearly perceive the difference in his back without the additional layer of the leather harness. As the ochre light declined and was replaced by a blanket of darkness, the city grew colder still.

**58 A.D.**

How long had it been since the Master had collapsed the cave entrance? Too long. And now, Ancharia’s health was declining and she was asking the impossible of him. She wanted Quintus to drink from her.

“Do not fight him. There will be another opportunity to defeat him. But not here, not now. You must escape,” said Ancharia.

Her voice had lost its usual sharpness which terrified Quintus.

“I won’t do it.”

He could not hurt her any more than he could stab himself in the heart. No…hurting his own flesh would be easier.

“The Master cannot love, so he takes it from others…feeds upon it, along with their blood,” she said.

Quintus swayed gently in the light of the fire camp. Though he was not injured, his throat and his chest ached mightily. He was accustomed to beatings and whippings but this…this was another entirely new beast to conquer.

“I don’t know if you can feel love, Quintus. But I can, and _I do_.”

Quintus ceased his childish swaying and stared at her face.

“I love you like a son.”

His eyes burned though they were far from the toxic sun. But he forced a small grin on his lips because he could love and he loved that old woman. She needed to know, so he took her hand and whispered:

“Mother.”

“Please, my son,” - tears rolled on into her grey hair - “I am suffering.”

Quintus knew she was in pain. Her heart was weak and her every movement was a struggle. Even uttering those words was difficult. As difficult as it was for him to listen. It took all the discipline she had taught him not to take that blade out of her hands. She lifted it to her throat and cut.

“Drink,” she ordered.

He looked down in horror at the dark blood. At that moment, his throat unclenched and the pain turned physical and familiar. He was so very _thirsty._ With a small shriek of pain, he obeyed his mother and forced himself to watch her as her wrinkled skin turned ashen.

It took two days for the Master to come back and witness his handiwork. The fire had long gone, and Quintus had not moved, unbothered by the cold temperatures.

“The half-breed has chosen his path,” said the Master. “Good. Come to me Invictus. I will show you and teach things beyond your dreams.”

“Yes, I can only imagine.”- Quintus twitched - “The wonder of your world, Lord. The majesty of residing underground like a snake, a fugitive of nature, afraid of the sun.”

“Need I remind you, the night lasts as long as the day.”

“And I am doomed to stand astride both worlds, the light and the dark …,” said Quintus as he stood.

He looked at the abomination and his fingers tightened on his sword.

“You cannot control me as you do your creatures. It frustrates you, doesn’t it?” he said and his voice turned taunting. “To know you will never be _my_ master…”

Quintus ran at the creature, growling and slashing. The beast, faster and stronger avoided the assault with ease and sent him tumbling against the stone walls of the cave.

“The huntress has indulged your human half too well.”

The Dhampir repeated the same maneuver and the Master side-stepped it just as easily. But Quintus had not wanted to injure him. He just needed the Master to stop blocking his only escape route.

“We will meet again,” said Quintus.

And as much as he loved Ancharia, he _hated_ the Master. That also was new. But he ran away because his mother had ordered him to.

When Quintus returned to that cave some months later, her remains were crushed, splayed apart and spread on the stones. The young Dhampir kneeled as the stinging in his eyes returned and since no one could see, he stopped fighting it and cried. He cried a long time as he clutched the only bone still intact.

His sobs eventually quieted down and the vice around his heart loosened. Quintus gathered the shards which had once been his mother. While doing so, he swore that her death would be avenged. Then he buried the broken remains on the side of that mountain but the intact bone he could not leave behind. In that cold, unforgiving place. Once more alone, armed with a silver sword and carrying the femur head in his pocket, he walked the land in search of strength.

In New York City, almost two millennia later, he marched to meet the Master and exact his revenge. For this time, he _had_ found strength and he was _not_ alone.

 

* * *

 

Amir slid the slender and long sliver of metal between the window and the door. With a brief jerking movement, he unlocked the van. Lexi nodded appreciatively at the efficiency of his skills. The parking lot was currently empty, but it might not last long and they could not afford to be seen stealing a Partnership patrol vehicle.

“And there, ladies and gentlemen is the reason Gus hired me.”

Raul rolled his eyes.

“Start the engine and then you can boast.”

“You just jelly I ain’t here cause I’m the boss’ cousin.”

Raul smacked Amir on the back of the head, who cackled and climbed into the driver’s seat. Lexi cleared her throat before Raul could go on with another quip. The two men exchanged a look and stared away sheepishly.

“Do I have to point out that both of you are here because you were the only ones who never killed a Strigoi face to face?”

Those were the least likely to be identified by either collaborators or the Strigoi they worked with. Of course, she herself had killed her first creature only a few months prior but they did not know that. She wished she also had more time to get to know those people better. But today would be the end. She grimaced and focused on the warmth of Quinlan’s mind to draw strength from it.

“Ouch, Lex, right in the feels,” whispered Amir who was leaning under the wheel and fiddling with the ignition.

She climbed in the back of the vehicle and after the van started, Amir joined her while Raul took the wheel. They drove for a minute before she took her balaclava out of her pocket as well as a chocolate bar. Amir inhaled sharply at seeing the candy.

“Where did you get this?” he asked.

She did not answer and unwrapped the bar then broke a piece.

“I don’t remember…why?”

The young man bit his lip and stared at the candy. A silent battle seemed to take place in his mind.

“Nevermind,” he said and scowled.

Raul chuckled and Amir squinted at him then back at Lexi. She broke the bar in half and gave it to Amir. He ate it in suspicious silence. Lexi finished her own piece then placed the balaclava on her head, making sure that no hair was left uncovered. Then she closed the thick leather collar glued to it and twisted the metal latch. A human would need pliers to remove it from her. The young man observed and his expression turned somber.

“Is it really true you don’t come back if you succeed?” asked Amir.

She opened her mouth to answer then closed it and elected to nod once.

“That sucks.”

His face fell, and that made his scar appear more prominent. Lexi wondered how he had been injured that way.

“Quinlan and I accept that fate,” she said.

“Yeah…but…”

He scratched his nose.

“At least you guys lived a long time together before. You’re super old, huh?”

“Yes…we have and yes, we are,” she lied.

Her chest tightened, and she found the mask she was wearing to be a blessing. Perhaps it would be beneficial for her peace of mind that they change subjects.

“How did you get that scar, Amir?”

“Ha…intrigued heh?”

Amir winked and wiggled his eyebrows.

“I thought it would be a good idea to steal an SUV and get myself out of the city just after the Fall. But the owner wasn’t too happy about it and rammed me out of the road almost as soon as I drove off.”

 “You gonna stop the story there, Amir?” said Raul.

“No, _jerk_. As I was saying…I got pushed out of the road. I hit the wheel with my face, and that’s when it happened. So when that guy came out of the car that had just rammed me, I was sure he was going to finish me off. But he gave me a job instead and that’s how I met Gus.”

“Gus did that to you then?”

She smiled and shook her head.

“Oh yeah, don’t steal shit from that guy. He crazy.”

Lexi thought briefly about Hinata. As friendly as the Sun Hunter appeared, he could not be crossed. At this very moment, as they made their way toward the final battle, it was reassuring.

“What are your plans? After the Master dies?”

“I don’t think the black market is going anywhere for a while…but after that…I don’t know. What are the job prospects for high school dropouts who can steal cars?”

“Quite good, if you consider most people probably lost their car keys during the Fall.”

Amir guffawed then seemed to consider the question more seriously.

“I think I’ll make a decent mechanic once I bother to learn how a car works.”

He was young and resourceful; it would not be a problem at all.

“What about you Raul?”

“I’ll just go back to the bodega in my street. If it’s still there.”

New York would not be itself again without those little shops and that perspective was also strangely reassuring. The world would carry on. Raul and Amir would have a chance at a real life. She observed his young, constantly smiling face then Raul’s gaze in the rearview mirror. They were worth it.

As they neared their destination, the Partnership medical facility, they grew tense but resolute. Paquito, the man who had stolen blood for the Dhampir regularly, worked in this compound and had gleaned some precious information. Thomas Eichhorst spent an inordinate amount of time supervising certain sections of the medical center and was often spotted in the company of the man in charge, Sanjay Desai. This connection to Eichhorst made Desai one of the highest members of the collaboration, and therefore the most likely to take the bait they were about to present.

“We’ll be there in five minutes, guys,” said Raul.

Amir presented opened handcuffs in her direction and she put her wrists in the metal circles. They clicked shut but appeared too loose.

“Tighter. Make it look real, Amir.”

Reluctantly, he obeyed and Lexi was satisfied when the cuffs became uncomfortable even through her gloves. Both swords rested by Raul on the passenger seat. For what seemed like the hundredth time, she checked her goggles and that the clasp of her dog collar was properly twisted shut. The silver and lead coffin weighed her pocket heavily. Somehow, the pill in her breast pocket felt heavier still. The building looked more like a factory than a hospital and made Lexi deeply uncomfortable. The smell of blood lingered in the wind. When they stopped at the gate, a guard approached with a hand on his weapon. Raul lowered his window and spoke.

“Hey! I was told to bring this terrorist to Sanjay Desai.”

“I didn’t hear anything about that.”

“Just call the man and tell him I’ve got a small woman with silver weapons, a bone sword and a another with a wolf head on it.”

He lifted both weapons to show him.

“Why she got that hood on?”

“She glued it to her collar and she kicks fucking hard when I try to remove it. The guys inside can figure it out. I was told not to hurt her but they can knock her out for all I care. Just call the man.”

He disappeared inside the little shelter and spoke on the phone.

“So I’ve got some patrol saying that they have a woman for you here.”

“Why are you calling for something like this? Just send them to processing,” replied an impatient voice.

“Certainly Mister Desai, but they said she should be sent to you directly because she is a terrorist and…”

Raul shook the weapons in his direction once more.

“…she has two silver swords, one with a bone handle and the other with a wolf head.”

“ _Shit_ ,” said Desai.

 There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. In the van, both men tensed, and Amir’s hand traveled slowly to his holster.

“Get them inside this instant. Straight to my office. Close the center entirely because her companion will not be far behind. Lock yourself inside. Tell everyone on guard to do the same.”

Raul and Amir relaxed and Lexi closed her eyes as the gate opened and they drove inside. She reached for Quinlan’s mind.

“ _Sanjay Desai took the bait._ ”              

“ _He will inform his superiors immediately_. _The Master will soon know._ ”

Then his voice quieted again but not before she felt his excitement. They were ushered inside the building by an orderly. The corridors, in need of a repaint, reeked of disinfectant. But under that, there was the metallic tinge of fresh blood. The orderly brought them to an office and left. Behind a large desk, a brown-skinned man, well-groomed and wearing an impeccable suit, spoke on the phone. He glanced at the weapons in Raul’s hand.

“Yes, the bone-hilted sword and the cane. Setrakian’s cane. She just got in.”

Desai looked at Lexi and he was taken aback.

“Describe her,” said the voice on the phone.

The voice was too civil. She could almost hear its owner smiling. Lexi immediately shared it with Quinlan who informed her that this was Eichhorst.

“ _The Master knows now. I will do my part. Good luck,_ ” said Quinlan.

“She is quite small and thin but…You! Remove that stupid hood.”

Raul made a show of pulling on the balaclava which stayed put. Lexi immediately fought him off of her.

“She is wearing a mask, I think it’s tied to her collar. Remove her glasses at least!”

Raul grabbed her neck in a chokehold and while she made a show of attempting to pry him off. He removed the goggles and Sanjay glanced briefly at her eyes.

“Let go of me, asshole! Quinlan will kill all of you!” she screamed.

“Her eyes are brownish, maybe also a bit green.”

“Oh it’s _her_. The chopper is already on its way. No need to give her lover any opportunity to retrieve her. The Born cannot fly.”

His voice oozed with satisfaction. As soon as Desai put down the phone, Raul let go of Lexi’s neck. She identified two entrances and of course the massive window. The office overlooked a room filled with idling pregnant women.

“Are those your cows? Those that you breed for the Strigoi’s benefit?” she asked.

Desai rushed to the window and pressed a button. Thick blinds lowered with a whirring noise.

“That’s none of your concern. I would be worrying about myself if I were you. You two! Hold her.”

Amir and Raul grabbed Lexi, and she tensed. Desai fiddled with the collar and quickly gave up. Irritated, he trotted to his desk and picked up large scissors. She could not let him see her face.

“Raul, the door,” she whispered.

Her associate closed the office door and locked it.

“What are you doing?” asked Desai.

Lexi’s stinger produced its very distinctive rattling, and Desai’s mouth gaped stupidly. She soared across the room, pried the scissors from his hand and looked into his eyes. Her third eyelid blinked. As understanding plowed through his confusion, she knocked him unconscious. Amir was already locking the second door on the other side of the room. Lexi propped the unconscious in the comfortable leather chair. Her associates assisted her as her handcuffs made the task difficult. They tied the man up with duct tape.

The chopping sounds of a helicopter were approaching. Soon it hovered over the building and landed. She put her goggles back on. Raul grabbed her elbow and dragged her out of the office. Amir locked the door behind them and pocketed the key. A blonde woman, her hands full of binders, came up the stairs and startled at seeing the three of them.

“Mister Desai has already gone. He was expected somewhere else urgently,” said Raul with confidence.

Her gaze stopped on Lexi and the blonde woman nodded.

“He asked that you direct us to the helipad.”

“That way,” said the woman.

The entire time it took her to guide through the facility, she glanced furtively at Lexi who dragged her feet and grunted while jerking her arms away from Raul and Amir.

The chopper waited for them and they ducked under the still rotating blades and entered the cabin. Raul put on a helmet and gestured at the pilot to go. With the loud noises of the engine, she could not understand the words the men exchanged but eventually, the helicopter left the roof. They had not counted on such a fast method of transport, but they could adapt.

“ _We are on our way via helicopter_ ,” she informed Quinlan. He did not answer. She could taste violence in his thoughts and knew that he too was doing his part.

The cityscape spreading underneath was too dark. From the pictures and movies she could recall, she had expected lights dancing and blinking everywhere. The city that never slept seemed plunged in a coma.


	22. The valley of the shadow of death

 

The Master listened to the voices of his many children. He floated in the infinity of his mind and observed the lanterns which were the souls he had collected. Never had they been so numerous and he swayed gently in the symphony of their whispers. When he spread his crimson presence, he saw through their eyes at will.

Thomas had delivered delicious news. In a few moments, he would have the pleasure of drinking yet another of the Invictus’ loved ones. This prospect made the worms rush faster under his colorless skin. And when her light would join those in his mind, he would know of ways to find the Born and finally kill him.

A voice beckoned the Master, and he focused on that child. It was in pain, but that was not the reason it had called out. The Born was there, punching and kicking at his progeny. When the Master plunged into the soul of this child, the Born ceased his brutality.

“Can you see me through it?” He said and grabbed Strigoi whose irises glowed red.

“Have you come to find me, Invictus?”

The son’s eyes were wide, and the usual defiance was gone. That was intriguing.

“WHERE IS SHE?”

The Strigoi was a mere ragdoll in his grasp. The despair in his voice was music to the Master’s ears. He laughed through the borrowed mouth.

“Ha…my son. Always too late to save those you cherish. Today will not be an exception.”

The Born let go of the Strigoi. Panic as the Master had never seen on that face pierced through.

“No! Not her!”

“Her…just like the others. Do not fret for she will live on within me. Maybe you will get to meet that new version of her.”

“Take me instead,” said the Born.

The Master gasped in pleasure when the blue eyes had turned glassy.

“What are you proposing, Born?”

“Take my life, but let her go. I cannot do this anymore. I cannot bear to have her die because of me.”

It was too good to be true. The body he borrowed twitched and approached the son.

“The Invictus…the Unconquerable… wishes to be conquered?”

The Born’s face lit up with hope.

“Yes! Take it! Take my body but leave her,” he begged.

The Master purred lowly and worms rushed his flesh in excitement. That submission…it was the sweetest of all. It tasted better than the blood of the Born’s families. This idea made him ache with sudden desire. The proposal was something he had never considered before.

The Master currently occupied an unimpressive form, taken out of necessity, not choice. On the other hand, the Born’s body was powerful and eternal. In this instant, the Master never desired to inhabit a shell more than this one. _Yes_ …And the woman who was now flying to him would serve as the first meal he would consume with that new body. _It all fits so beautifully._

The Master summoned his children to join him. He had to be sure that the Invictus would not have the opportunity to change his mind and escape. Especially when faced with the realization that the woman would not be freed. The prospect of crushing that hope was also marvelous.

“Follow that Strigoi but…leave your weapons.”

He wanted the Born disarmed. Not because he was afraid of his blades or bullets but as a confirmation of his submission. Without hesitation, the son shed his automatic weapons and a small silver knife from his pocket. The bone sword was on its way with the woman, and the Master would enjoy possessing it. As a keepsake symbolizing his total victory. The Born followed the Strigoi through the streets of New York and into Central Park. Amongst the skyscrapers, the townhouses and the churches, the Master’s many children gathered to witness and assist in the joyous event.

* * *

 

Waves rippled on the Turtle pond under the pressure of the helicopter’s blades. The aerial vehicle landed near the waters, on the scene of the Delacorte theatre whose seats had once been green but had accumulated too much grime to let their original color through. Surrounding the amphitheater and the lake were dead trees with the occasional evergreen which had survived so far. On a rocky hill overlooking the pond, the grey stones of the Belvedere castle waited. It was a shame that such a beautiful place should become the scene of such violence.

“ _I have just arrived and the Master is here_ ,” said Quinlan.

His voice was always clear, even with the crippling loudness of the helicopter. As soon as the engine stopped, Amir took out his weapon and sat next to the pilot who raised his hands when he spotted the gun.

“You stay here and keep an eye on the pilot but don’t hurt him. We might as well fly away from here once we have the worm but also…”

It was hard to say those words.

“If we fail, you’ll have a way to escape.”

Amir's chin jutted forward but his gaze stayed on the pilot. Raul’s heartbeat was almost too loud as he grabbed her elbow.

“Don’t say shit like this, Lex,” said Raul.

His voice was almost steady. They kept quiet as they walked through the amphitheater and on the path leading to the stairs of the castle. At the bottom of those stairs, they stopped, and Raul reached inside his pocket briefly. It contained the remote to activate the jamming devices. Both swords were tucked in his belt. Then as if finally finding the courage to do so, he held tighter on Lexi’s arm and dragged her up the stairs.

At this moment, because she was also terrified, she was proud of him. He did not have the advantage of inhuman strength or speed but still, he climbed on. The top of the stairs was surmounted by a cover and as soon as they crossed it, Lexi was sick to her stomach.

A silhouette towered over a kneeling Quinlan. It wore a flowing coat with a deep hood and from across the large terrace, it reeked of blood and ammonia. Strange, rushing noise like that of a small stream filled her ears and with a heave of disgust, she realized it came from the multitude of worms crawling through his body. When the black hole of the hood turned to her and two red coals stared, Lexi knew they had made a mistake.

As they stepped closer, the struggling away from Raul’s grip stemmed less and less from acting and more from her fear. Stepping into the glow of Quinlan’s soul had been going home. This was stepping into a tar pit. Her body shook, but she allowed Raul to pull her closer to the abomination. The man stank of adrenaline. _This plan is stupid. We are all going to die._ In her breast pocket, she carried the cyanide pill, and she wanted to take it out. To have it ready.

She only calmed because the Master turned back to Quinlan but not before her Dhampir eyes saw through the shadows of his hood. His skin moved with the rushing of worms and his nose and lips were shrunken and black. Even in her nightmares, she had not imagined this.

Lexi needed to take a hold on herself. But she could not reach for the dark room in her mind. “ _Lexi, look at me. I am with you_.”

Quinlan stared from under his smooth brow. She focused on his eyes and on how much she trusted and loved him. Even as his gaze shifted away, his strengthening presence stayed in her. The Master held out a hand to Quinlan. The middle finger was long and curved like a talon and on his palm rested a pile of black soil.

“Eat it.”

Quinlan obeyed with an expressionless face.

“Now let her go. As you promised,” he said then wiped at his mouth.

“First…you must say your goodbyes, Born.”

His long middle finger pulled Quinlan’s chin up and made him stand up. Raul tensed next to her though he could not possibly perceive the Master as she did, with the stench and corruption of his soul. They both startled when a man appeared in front of them. She had not noticed his presence so far. He was insignificant next to the Master.

Under the smell of make-up and clean clothes, there was the distinctive acidic tang of a Strigoi. Eichhorst sniffed the air in her direction like a dog and smiled savagely. As if to confirm what she already knew, his third eyelid blinked over artificial blue eyes. He took the two swords from Raul tucked them under his mutilated arm.

“I will take it from here…” he said with a marked German accent. “You…”- he looked at Raul - “Away.”

He made a dismissive gesture of the hand then grabbed her by the elbow. Gunshots exploded in the distance. Lexi’s ears twitched as she encompassed the sounds of the park. Hundreds of Strigoi snarled and growled amongst the dead trees and further away still, there were the screams of human beings. The horde grew closer, and their screeching rang clear in the night. Raul’s heart jumped violently. How long would the different teams last around Central Park if they had to face an army? Raul had reached the same conclusion but did not have the presence of mind to first leave the terrace. He fumbled for his pocket and Eichhorst’s attention shifted from Lexi to him. He scowled.

His stinger flew and almost connected with Raul’s neck. Almost. She pushed the human out of the way, and he rolled on the stone floor, stunned. Lexi punched the Strigoi’s chin and his teeth sunk into his own flesh. He screeched and the swords fell as he held onto his mangled stinger. Raul was crawling away, toward the small box which had flown out of his grasp and onto the stone tiles. _Shit_.

She faced Eichhorst whose stinger had returned to his throat. She could not let him get to Raul or the switch. Eichhorst’s face was covered with white blood and worms. The swords lay behind him, inaccessible to her. Nictitating membranes covered her eyes in anticipation and with a quick jerk of her arms, she snapped the chain binding her wrists. Time slowed as she wound up her muscles.

Quinlan was now struggling with the Master, attempting to keep his attention on him. He was giving them time.

Lexi pounced toward Eichhorst who also charged her. That Strigoi was quicker than any other she had met. But her speed was unmatched. She jumped and his arms closed on empty air. Lexi landed on his back and grabbed his head. His only hand closed on the balaclava and fabric tore around her neck. With a crack, both his neck and her hood gave way. In the glow of the surrounding lamps, her silver hair gleamed.

 

The Master shrieked and slammed Quinlan down on the stones. They fractured from the impact.

 

Eichhorst fell under her, dead and Lexi jumped toward the swords. The Master swatted her. She flew across the terrace, slammed into a wall. Even with her Dhampir eyes, she could not follow his movements. He had seen her and the devices had not yet been activated. That was if there still any of the machines left.

Quinlan struggled up and rushed, but the abomination was faster. Faster than Lexi by a wide margin. The hooded beast leaned above her and the stink at this distance was almost physical.

“First Invictus? My daughter?”

A misshapen hand closed on her small neck and the Master stared at her face. His voice was full of the rush of worms and the vibrations of his throat. Quinlan was almost onto them but two Strigoi connected with him and they rolled away in a mess of limbs and snarls. All around, creatures swarmed.

“You are not the First or the Fourth…”

The fingers tightened. She couldn’t breathe.

“I know your face. It’s _impossible_.”

In the corner of her eye, she spied Raul reaching the switch. Her cervical bones were about to snap like matches. Lexi looked into the glowing red eyes and smiled.

 

A buzzing sound rose in her mind.

 

The Master heaved and his stinger hung from his open mouth, useless. Around her neck, the vice-like hold unclenched and she pried his hand off. Needing to catch her breath, she kicked the Master away from her before falling to her knees and coughing. Quinlan had already picked up both swords which he swung at the Master unsuccessfully.

Lexi jumped to her feet and caught the handle of the wolf-headed sword that Quinlan tossed at her. Side by side, they faced the thing that had plagued her nightmares since she had learned of its existence. On the terrace and the towers, Strigoi stood like statues. Raul was nowhere to be seen, and that made her breathe more easily.

“Your duplicity will finally bring about your end,” said Quinlan.

The stinger returned to the shadows of the Master’s hood and the red coals of his glare shone momentarily brighter. The buzzing sound decreased in intensity.

“My special children will soon take care of this…inconvenience.”

The Master twitched violently and despite his obvious discomfort, grinned. Lexi felt Quinlan tense and when she glanced, his face was contorted in revulsion.

 “ _Now!_ ” said Quinlan.

They flew with weapons forward. Although weakened, the abomination was still incredibly quick. It avoided the metal over and over again. Time slowed for the three dancers. And to human eyes, they were probably little more than blurs.

“ _I will give you an opening…strike him!_ ” said Quinlan.

There it was. Their chance. Silver sang as it rushed toward the white skin. That skin turned a healthy human pink and her stab landed short. Stephan stared at her through rimless glasses.

“What are you doing, Lexi? Don’t you love me anymore?”

Her eyes bulged. What was he doing here? Where was the Master? Her stance lost its steadiness as she stared into the dark blue eyes. He stepped closer and the irises turned crimson.

“ _LEXI!_ ” roared Quinlan.

His hand clasped on her shoulder and hauled her back. Not quite fast enough. Sharp claws had sunk into her core. She rolled on the stone and her sword fell a step away. Lexi struggled to lift herself on her elbows. The injury was deep. Too deep. She was convinced that without Quinlan’s intervention, she would have been torn in half. _You fucking moron._ With fingers slippery from her milky blood, she undid her belt and tied it firmly above the five stab wounds.

It hurt impossibly and she was nauseated. Her entire body shook fiercely but steadied when the Master pounced on Quinlan. White blood splattered the floor and Quinlan retreated, standing close to her. Three gouges marked his face and fury filled Lexi’s chest. Her body burned from her anger, and from the cuts in her flesh.

“ _Do not let him get to you again. He can make you see things!_ ” said Quinlan.

When she tried to stand, agony sent her back down on the stones. Their injuries oozed pearly blood while the abomination stood, intact.

“ _I saw Stephan_.”

Quinlan nodded.

“ _Yes, and now I see Tasa._ _How badly injured are you?_ ”

“ _We will have to make this very quick,_ ” she said and forced herself on her feet. The pain sent bright flashes in her vision.

Quinlan glanced at the blood spreading on her shirt and pants. Despite the pressure of her belt, she still bled profusely. She would not last long. But it did not matter because her end would come soon either way. Lexi just needed time to finish this battle. She needed him to remove her pain, so she could fight. The buzzing decreased in intensity yet again.

The Master laughed and advanced slowly toward his wounded prey. He removed his hood and Lexi forced herself to stare away from his nightmare of a visage. The beast blocked the glow of a lamp and as he approached, his shadow engulfed both Dhampir.

“ _I need you to take some of my pain._ _When I reach for your soul, do not block me_ ,” said Lexi.

He stepped between her and the Master.

“ _Hurry._ ”

She did not want this, but there was no choice. When he had taken her grief, for a short moment, it had felt like death. It had been oblivion. But now, it did not matter if they lost themselves into one another. She plunged inside her mind quicker than she had ever done before. As soon as her consciousness floated in the lightless space, she pounced on Quinlan’s soul. Vaguely, she could still perceive the Master and his shadow growing darker. Death was coming. The cocoon’s shell melted, and she sighed in relief because his warmth was so very soothing.

_“Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, **for you are with me**_ ,”

She thought as the warmth turned into searing heat. Her mind disappeared once more.

 

The Master leaned forward with a revolting smirk.

 

Their faces hardened and an eerie glow appeared around their irises. They could see through two pairs of eyes because at that very moment they belonged to the same entity.

They grinned when the pain subsided and Lexi’s body stood without impediment. The Master stared in bemusement at their eyes burning with the icy light. A guttural growl shook both Dhampir’s chests and they adopted symmetrical stances.

“ **It ends now** ,” they said.

This time, they flew as one, moved by the same desire for revenge. Moved by their love for those the Master had stolen and so that others would be spared that fate. Under this coordinated and unrelenting assault, the Master lost ground. Since they had become two parts of the same being, fainting and trapping was a trivial matter. The Master could not anticipate their manoeuvers.

His back was almost to the low wall surrounding the terrace and before he could jump off and disappear, both blades darted toward his throat. The clawed fingers closed on each of their wrists but the impetus of their movement forced him down on a knee. Like scissors, the blades crossed just before the red folds of his neck. He was stronger than each of them even as they held onto their swords with both hands. They grunted with the effort it took to push the blades toward his skin. The Master was slowly pushing them away from him and as he did, he sneered at their inferior strength.

It was impossible to determine where the idea for their next move originated. At this instant, they only had one mind. Both their jaws dropped open. Two stingers flew toward the Master’s head. His face contorted with the realization that he had lost. Four talons grabbed at the skull and violently pulled toward the crossed blades. The Master’s head flew above their shoulders and landed on the dark stones. Thin worms poured out and they observed intently.

 

There was the crack of a gunshot. With a sudden snap, Lexi found herself again and with her consciousness regaining its uniqueness, the searing in her core made her yelp miserably. Quinlan held his shoulder and white blood shone on his dark coat. Confused, they peered around and spotted two figures just inside the building. One was a young human boy, the other a Strigoi with a ridiculous maid accoutrement.

The human held a rifle and was aiming at Lexi. Without Quinlan taking away her pain, she knew she would not be able to run. It was a struggle to remain standing. The fight had worsened the injury. Her companion snarled and sped to their new assailants. Eyes wide, the sapient Strigoi ran away but the boy did not have the benefit of unnatural speed. Quinlan tore the weapon from his grip and his stinger closed around the small neck.

“ _Do not kill him_ ,” said Lexi.

“ _I believe this is the Goodweather boy. He deserves that fate._ ”

“ _It’s over. No one needs to die now. Please_.”

When Quinlan let go of the unconscious boy, his heart still beat. She shifted her focus back to the severed head. Lexi took out the coffin from her pocket and opened it. From the cut cervical, the rope-like creature crawled out. The motions were wrong, it did not slide, it spiraled in her direction.

“Pathetic,” she whispered.

She coughed in the crook of her elbow and ignored the blood this had left there. Quinlan stood beside her and also observed the laborious progression of their vanquished enemy. Carefully, he grabbed the crimson worm behind its mouth. Lexi presented the metal box to him. His face impassible, he dropped the Master on the silver. The beast convulsed and a shrill scream joined the faint buzzing in her mind. Moonlight shone on the crimson worm a last time before its final journey.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan’s shoulder twinged but he could bear it. As he would bear the numerous contusions in his back and the cuts on his face. Lexi closed the box and the Master’s scream died down. Quinlan took the radio out of his pocket. It was shattered and unusable.

“ _Will you be alright for the moment?_ ” he asked Lexi whose body radiated intense heat.

She nodded once and put the box in her pocket. Lexi had put a firm muzzle on her emotions and nothing passed to him through the Bond. Still, when the violence of the gunshot had separated their minds, for a very brief moment, he had perceived her agony on top of his own.

“ _Raul and Amir should have their own radios. We have to tell the others that it’s over. No one should get hurt needlessly,”_ she said.

A dozen Strigoi stood on the terrace and on the towers, almost still. With only a fraction of the jamming signal remaining, some twitched again. A few looked around slowly.

They left as quickly as Lexi could manage. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, she held onto the railing and coughed again. Suppressing his fear for her, he took her arm and half carried her on the path. They would rest once final victory was a step away.

Like droplets of ink, red blood marked the grey cement and led to the body of a neatly dressed Strigoi. High heels and an elegant black dress were marred with white blood and worms. Her stinger had been pulled out and still twitched a few paces away. The couple stared at the red blood, both worried and thirsty.

“ _Raul?_ ” she asked.

“ _No…why would the blood lead toward the castle and not away from it?”_

She wiped at her mouth, and her fingers trembled. They moved on, toward the amphitheater and the helicopter. Its door opened and both Raul and Amir appeared. The scent of fresh blood wafted from them.

“You got it?” asked Amir.

“Yes,” said Quinlan.

Amir activated his radio and barked into it.

“We’re by the pond, in the theatre. Retreat but come pick us up first. Raul is injured.”

“Got it!” replied an out of breath Gus through the crackling speaker.

Raul leaned against the fuselage of the helicopter. He sweated despite the coolness of the night and grimaced while clutching his arm. The smell of blood did not come from him.

“How are you hurt?” asked Lexi.

“I think you broke my arm when you pushed me.”

She grunted and Quinlan wanted to help her inside the helicopter but there was a matter to resolve first.

“What happened to the two of you?” asked Quinlan.

Amir glanced at his friend and his labored breathing and turned to the Dhampir with a wry smile.

“I was going to stay in the chopper like Lexi said but…Strigs were coming from all over the place…people were shooting guns...I thought I would be more useful helping you guys than babysitting the pilot. He is fine by the way…I just tied him up.”

He squeezed his forearm around which he had tied a piece of his torn shirt, and stared at the blood smeared on his palm.

“Met a Strig on my way to the castle and you should have seen me…I was fucking awesome. I pulled that stinger right out of its throat. Then I dragged Raul out of there and came back here while you guys were fighting…”

The smile seemed a little strained now. Lexi stared with a gaping mouth and leaned on Quinlan more heavily. Under the young man’s skin, just above his collar, a worm crawled up and up. Quinlan’s chest tightened, and Lexi made a strange sound, like a wounded animal. He could do nothing as her face contorted in pain and she burst into loud sobs.

“That’s what I thought…,” said Amir and his smile faded.

“Amir…I’m so so sorry,” she said and had a violent fit of cough.

Her knees buckled, and Quinlan helped her sit on the ground until the coughing stopped.

“What the fuck is happening?” asked Raul.

His head lolled, and he squinted through the sweat in his eyes. Amir turned to him and his usual grin was back. He removed the fabric from his arm and showed his friend. Raul shook his head.

“They gonna kill that thing and it won’t matter anymore,” said Raul.

Lexi moaned and put her face in her hands. She swayed softly, and Quinlan wanted desperately to hold her and take her pain away.

“Raul…I am afraid we will not be able to test whether this could be true,” he said.

“Why the fuck not?” Raul spat back.

“’ Cause it will take too long to get to Mexico City and by the time they dunk the box in the volcano, I’ll be too far gone.”

“No! This is bullshit! It’s fucking over now! Why the fuck did you leave the chopper you goddamn idiot?” said Raul through gritted teeth.

“And let you get all the glory? Fuck off! Oh and by the way, I’m not an idiot, I know you found my stash, _asshole_.”

Raul stared in disbelief then laughed and Amir chuckled as well. Carefully, he hugged his friend whose laughter was replaced by quiet tears.

“Tell Gus I’m sorry I fucked up,” whispered Amir.

“Just tell him yourself.”

“I don’t want him to look at me like you guys are looking at me right now.”

With a grunt, Lexi stood and when Quinlan reached to help, she raised a hand and he stopped himself. She exhaled gingerly and stopped crying. Her face hardened.

“ _If you want to tell him goodbye, do it now,”_ she said.

Quinlan walked resolutely to the young man who faced him.

“Amir I am sorry you will not get the opportunity to see humanity rise from its ashes, however, I do not doubt you will be remembered and celebrated for the role you played in saving it.”

Quinlan held out a palm. Amir shook it with his back straight and his head high. Then he went to Lexi who pulled him gently into a hug.

“I wish we had met sooner,” she murmured.

He held a little tighter and Quinlan worried he might hurt her.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Make it quick, Lex.”

She took his young face between her hands and grinned softly. Amir was trembling, but he forced a smile on his face. Lexi kissed his brow and he closed his eyes. Then before he could open his eyes again, she snapped his neck. His body was heavy, so she let herself drop to the ground with it. Quinlan fought the burning sensation behind his eyelids. Raul howled and with uncertain footsteps, he approached Amir’s body. Lexi closed Amir’s eyes as Raul clutched at the hand of his friend. At this moment, the dead face looked incredibly young even with that scar of his. Quinlan felt nauseated by this.

“ _We must leave,”_ he told Lexi.

Despite her reassurance that she would be alright, he was worried about her weakened state. Their mission was not yet over. On the road running by the castle, an SUV was approaching. Raul would be safe. They had to go because time was of the essence. And also because at this moment, Quinlan did not want to face the Sun Hunter and his grief.

“ _Help me to the helicopter,”_ she said.

“Raul…they are coming. I’m sorry.”

He was ignoring her but she continued.

“Despite all this…Raul…please, live well.”

Quinlan assisted her into the helicopter. In the cabin, she secured herself to a seat and slouched The pilot’s wrists were handcuffed behind the back of his seat and Quinlan freed him.

“Fly to the JFK airport. If you attempt to escape or disobey my order, I will tear you in half.”

“Ok ok! Please don’t hurt me!”

The man was about thirty, with black eyes and an expressive face. He instantly reached for the commands to start the flight. Above them, the rotors came alive and the blades slashed the air with increasing speed. From Central Park, the ride would last ten minutes at the most. He sat by Lexi who cried as she stared at the window. When he took her hand, her gaze shifted to him. She appeared almost… _guilty_.

“ _My Quinlan…_ ”

Her eyelids seemed to get heavier by the second. Quinlan stared with bated breath.

“ _Forgive me._ ”

She coughed and white blood dripped on her chin. He reached for her face just as her eyes fluttered shut. The warmth of her presence faded away to almost nothing. Quinlan screamed for her both in his mind and with his voice. The mechanical slashing of the helicopter drowned his plights.


	23. Swan song

 

Quinlan laid Lexi’s limp form on the steel floor of the helicopter cabin. She sucked on air, like a raspy cry for help. Desperately, he removed her belt and tore open her jacket and shirt. Five stab wounds bled and the middle one, the one made by the unnaturally long talon, bubbled with each of her breaths.

He pressed down on the lacerations and peered around the cabin. There was nothing of use. Quinlan was completely outside of his element. This was _her_ domain.

His talent was inflicting death and if needed, dispensing it swiftly. Every time he had given mercy to his loved ones, it had been the worst moment of his life. Until the next time it happened. His mother, his friends, his wives, and daughters…whether they begged for release or had already succumbed to the Master’s curse, he had killed them then walked away with yet another promise for a new companion.

Taking Lexi’s life was inconceivable though it would be pragmatic. She was to die within a few hours and instead of a dragged agony, he could gift her a peaceful end. And had she still been human, he might have done so. Back when their minds were two firmly separate entities. Back when the velvet of her presence had not yet existed. In very instant she was a mere thread in the back of his head but he clung onto it. Like water in a desert, slipping through his fingers.

Quinlan tore strips off her shirt and shoved the cotton mercilessly inside the wounds. The hemorrhage ceased but her heart still struggled. Each of her breaths created popping and crackling sounds inside her ribcage. But as the drowning lung filled with air, it meant she would live through another moment. The labored inhalations as awful as they sounded, were hope.

The helicopter began its descent and Quinlan stood by the pilot and pointed at a hangar. This was where their plane and Dr. Brevil waited. Surely there would be some medical equipment there, and the scientist might also help.

As soon as they landed, he grabbed the pilot and opened the door. In the shadows of the large building, there was a small plane. Through an oval window, a face appeared briefly. Dr. Brevil rushed into the tarmac to meet them.

“Who is this?” he asked and gestured at the terrified man that Quinlan held by the arm.

“Can you fly this?” asked Quinlan the pilot then gestured at the plane.

“CJ4…yeah, I can but…”

“Then you will. You have your weapon, Dr. Brevil?”

The scientist took out his gun, and Quinlan felt irritation at how his hands held the weapon. With hesitation.

“You will keep an eye on him and if he attempts to escape, shoot him in the head.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

The nuzzle of the gun vibrated when Brevil held it up toward the pilot. He led him inside the plane while Quinlan returned to the helicopter, put the metal box inside his own coat and tucked her sword in his belt. Her eyes moved encouragingly but she still wrestled for air. Her presence came back but diffuse, like adding warm water to a cold bath. She was still unconscious. This gave him more hope as he carried her to the small plane.

“Is she dead?” asked Brevil with panicked eyes.

Quinlan deposited Lexi on a comfortable seat then closed the pressurized door.

“Give him the flight plan. We have to depart right now,” said Quinlan.

She could not die before they finished their mission. He would not do this alone. He could not do this alone anymore.

When they took to the air and the landscape rolled under them steadily, he joined the pilot and Brevil.

“I need medical equipment,” he told Brevil then turned to the pilot. “I have more than a passing familiarity with aircrafts and I can hear your every heartbeat. If something is awry, I will know.”

The expressive face showed clear understanding. Quinlan was not particularly worried that he might try something. He did not appear brave and there was nowhere to flee. There was no treachery in those eyes, only fear.

“What medical equipment have you brought?” asked Quinlan to Brevil and they walked to Lexi.

She was floating on the edge of consciousness, and Quinlan could feel her presence flowing and ebbing. The scientist pulled a small red bag from his luggage and handed it to Quinlan.

“Do you know how to use those tools?”

Brevil’s arm fell.

“Of course not! I am not that kind of doctor.”

Quinlan growled in frustration but that sound quieted as Lexi’s presence returned completely.

“ _He cannot help us. There is no point now_.”

He kneeled by her and kissed her striped cheeks. Her eyes were still closed, but she was there, with him. Brevil stood staring, clutching the bag.

“ _Please Lexi, don’t make me do this alone.”_

_“Will you forgive me if I do?”_

Slowly her hand crawled up to her chest, over her breast pocket. _NO_. He could not let her do this. Quinlan grabbed her hand and pulled it to him. He would forgive her anything, but it did not mean he would be able to endure it. Could he walk to that burning mountain with the gaping hole that her death would punch in his soul? Would he even survive it? 

“ _Fight for me. So that we may finish this. Then we will rest together.”_

_“It hurts so badly and I am so tired…”_

_“Please, don’t leave me behind.”_

Not again. Never again.

“ _I don’t want to leave you. I want to be by your side, always.”_

She drifted again. But with those last words she had made a choice to go on, for however short a time and despite her pain and fatigue. So Quinlan considered what he would do if those were injuries he had endured himself. When he decided his course of action, he was grateful she was unconscious. That way she could not feel when he removed the soaked cotton from her deepest injury and forced the flat of her sword against her pierced lung.

He wrinkled his nose at the stink of burnt flesh but persevered until he could see and hear no air escaping. With the contents of the medical bag, he stitched her. When the silk thread snapped from his clumsy attempts, he hurled the bag across the cabin with a roar. Frustrated, he pinched her wounds close and applied the silver to it. The smooth alabaster of her skin turned grey and raw as it melted shut. The thudding of her heart was more regular. Quinlan waited anxiously for her consciousness to return.

After several hours, impossible heat rose from her body and the burns were still raw. She was speaking but not to him. She murmured and moaned to ghosts from her past. The words made no sense and most were not in English anymore. Her third eyelid spread over her hazel irises and she did not appear to recognize Quinlan when she looked at him. Her breaths came more easily but there was still a soft cracking in her right side.

Now that she had no control over her thoughts, he could perceive the fire in her throat and chest. Quinlan’s own injuries were shallow though they still burned more than they should have. He was thirsty despite his feeding on the Goodweather child. It had been the case every time the Master injured him as if his flesh was poisonous to him. The scar on his cheek had remained unchanged for two millennia though other similar injuries had faded away with time.

She would not improve without blood. And they did not have the luxury of stolen bags. The precarious nature of their supply had not allowed for reserves to be made. Lexi would not like this, but she had decided to fight and he would give her every chance of winning.

He glanced at the pilot and Brevil. The scientist noticed his sudden arrival in the cockpit. The Dhampir looked quickly at the commands. The autopilot was on.

“Is she alright?” Brevil asked.

Quinlan would have preferred for him to remain quiet because as soon as he spoke, the pilot tensed. Before the man could react further, Quinlan slapped his temple. Hard. He slumped to the side and Quinlan picked up his body without much regard for the protests Brevil screamed at him.

“I will shoot you if you hurt him!” said Brevil as he pointed his gun at Quinlan.

The Dhampir tossed the pilot on the seat opposing Lexi’s. When he faced the scientist, he considered him with newfound respect. His eyes were so wide, his irises merely dots in an ocean of white. He sweated so profusely, it gave the impression that tears ran down his face. Quinlan could disarm him but he wanted to avoid the possibility of an accidental gunshot. If a bullet destroyed one of the windows, the result would be catastrophic.

“If she doesn’t feed, she will die. Furthermore…if you shoot and the plane depressurizes you will also perish.”

“She doesn’t need his blood, you said yourself you would die today! We’re just hours from Mexico City!”

“She cannot die now. I need her.”

“You don’t need her to toss the box! I’m not an idiot. I know you’re doing this because you’re scared!”

Yes, he was scared. He was terrified in fact and at that moment, he let his mask of smug impassibility slip away.

“What would you do if you had to spend your last hours watching the woman you love die?”

Brevil almost startled and in his confusion, lowered his gun. Quinlan grabbed the weapon, removed its magazine and the live round in its chamber. The scientist attempted to run, but he caught him by the collar and shoved him in the lavatory. Quinlan closed the sliding door and with a hit of his elbow, broke the door mechanism, effectively locking it. Brevil pounded on the door.

The Dhampir laid Lexi and the pilot side by side on the floor and cut the skin on the man’s arm. He spread the blood on Lexi’s lips and tongue to coax her stinger out. It emerged weakly and in her delirious state, undirected. Quinlan pushed the appendage against the pilot’s bleeding wound and waited anxiously. The sharp bone broke the skin, and blood rushed with the distinct pumping of the powerful muscles. Quinlan grinned in relief but stopped when Lexi snarled and sprang on the pilot.

Savage and without a trace of humanity, she pushed Quinlan away when he attempted to restrain her so she would not aggravate her injuries. The pilot’s heart beat faster and within a few seconds, it would be too late. Before she could do something she would agonize over, he yanked her away. She clawed at the air toward the human and screeched.

His shoulder ached from her thrashing but he held on until her voice turned more human than Strigoi. She was not yet herself and failed to acknowledge his presence. In French, she repeated over and over again how hungry she was. He carried her to the cockpit and tied her in the co-pilot’s seat. Her skin was still hot but cooling. The popping noises in her lungs had ceased.

 

Land appeared on the horizon and Quinlan leaned back onto the seat with a huff. As they crossed the water, he could not physically touch the commands. Something in his brain would not allow it.

When she fell asleep and the familiar susurrations of her dreams took over her feverish rants, he almost laughed. But she was still far from healed. Quinlan was familiar with stabbing wounds and they required liters upon liters of blood to fully close.

But taking more from the pilot would mean killing him. And that was simply not an option. Quinlan waited until they were above land and checked that they were flying in the right direction and at the proper altitude. Then he walked the length of the plane to the lavatory where Brevil had gone quiet. Quinlan forced the door open, and the scientist stood, waiting.

“You killed him!” he said as he spotted the pilot sprawled on a seat, immobile.

“No, he lives.”

“What?”

“I needed his blood, but I never intended to kill him …Unfortunately, it also means _his_ blood was insufficient for Lexi’s needs. She will require yours.”

Brevil stepped back but did not cower as Quinlan expected.

“No,” he said.

“I admire your bravery, but this was not a request. You will either do so voluntarily or I will take it by force. I do believe it will be less unpleasant for you if you choose the first option.”

“You’re a monster, a psychopath…”

Quinlan bared his teeth.

“What are you trying to accomplish by baiting me with insults? I am aware of what I am… you should be reassured that I am only acting in accordance with my nature.”

Brevil pressed himself against the wall farthest from Quinlan.

“Now, Dr. Brevil, _you_ decide what comes next.”

 

 ***

 

Quinlan held a plastic bottle filled with blood to Lexi’s lips. She drank slowly, still lethargic. Half-way through the bottle, her eyes focused on him. There was recognition in that gaze.

“ _Whose blood is this?_ ” she asked and her lips closed shut.

“ _Brevil’s_.”

“ _Where is he?_ ”

Quinlan pointed to the seating area of the cabin. Brevil stared out the window with a scowl. He was pale but healthy.

“ _How are you feeling?_ ”

“ _Weak but…”_ \- she put a careful palm on her abdomen – “ _better…_ ”

Quinlan offered the blood again, and she finished it by herself. She took a deep breath and looked at him. Sunrise would soon come, and the light was at this ideal moment where their eyes could see without impediment the beauty of soft shadows. She was detailing him and he did the same. There were white blotches where the Master had throttled her. Those marks would soon fade but not quickly enough. Her eyes were suddenly full of vibrant shades as the soft light traversed them. Quinlan leaned forward and kissed her. She tasted of human and Dhampir blood. On the horizon, a plume of smoke loomed over Mexico city.

* * *

 

He had not let her die and only part of her was glad his efforts had been rewarded by success. The sky turned golden and Quinlan took the controls and stirred clear of the smoke rising dangerously close to the airport. She focused on his hands and how they moved expertly, pulling on the handle and pressing buttons. Exhaustion got ahold of her, and she fell asleep again.

When she came to, Quinlan carried her out of the plane and onto another large hangar. Small two-sitter aicrafts and half a dozen helicopters were parked nearby. In the distance, there were explosions and a disturbing rumbling. Her instincts demanded she run far and fast. It was only exacerbated when her feet touched the ground. Vibrations raised her hackles.

“ _You know I still want it_.”

“ _What?_ ”

“ _Our reward. The unique moment in time we may savor our victory before the end_.”

Lexi closed her eyes because she wanted it too. She wanted to lie down in his arms somewhere quiet and peaceful, to kiss his face and for him to run fingers through her hair and make her purr. And the box would be next to them, ready to be destroyed. The proof they had won.

“ _You can feel it…can’t you? The vibrations…the noise_.”

“ _Yes_.”

“ _It will start soon.._. _too soon_.”

Quinlan glared at the smoke billowing on the horizon.

“You!” he said to Dr. Brevil who had just emerged from the plane.

Brevil looked back as if tempted to return inside rather than face the Dhampir.

“When will the eruption start? Can we wait for an hour?”

“Why? Are you insane? It’s right there!” said the scientist and he raised both hands toward the volcano.

“Do not test my patience! Answer the question.”

The rumbling of his chest added to that of the imminent eruption.

“I can't predict it to the minute for crying out loud. Could be thirty seconds!”

Quinlan grabbed him by the lapel, enraged.

“ _This is not his fault. Let him be_.”

It was a chore to close the distance between them and put a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. She wanted to let her legs give in, sit on the floor, lie down and sleep. But Quinlan’s rage was not for the man. Quinlan dropped Brevil but still looked murderous.

“ _I do not want us to fly there while angry_.”

His rage deflated and there was nothing left but pitiful sorrow.

“ _I will see him away, prepare the chopper, please_.”

Quinlan walked away and his shoulders appeared narrower when he did not stand straight and proud.

“Doctor, I’m sorry about…all this.”

She wobbled and gratefully accepted Brevil supporting hand.

“Why are you with him? You’re not like…you are different,” he whispered.

“How I can love such a brutal creature, you mean?”

Brevil’s head snapped back at the directedness of her answer.

“For Quinlan…it’s easier when humans think his appearance matches the contents of his soul.”

“ _This one has a full tank and is operational_ ,” said Quinlan as he sat in the cockpit of the farthest helicopter.

“When he doesn’t have to prove himself a good person…and what a good job he’s done of it. You think him worthless when he is about to die for you…for all of you.”

Brevil looked down but did not say a thing.

“Doctor…you will go back to New York now. Would you please tell the others that we won today?”

“Of course,” he said too eagerly.

As if he was granting her a dying wish.

“Please tell them that for a brief moment, but a crucial one, all of you were the most important humans on Earth.”

She squeezed his shoulder and walked away before he could give her another look full of pity. How she understood Amir in this instant.

She should have been terrified, but the pain of her injuries had gone and left behind the sweet euphoria of its absence. Lexi was relieved both physically and mentally. What was there to fear now? Her only wish was to share a peaceful end with her beloved demon.

He was hiding it quite well, his anxiety and...yes, his regret. She looked down at the sprawling forest below. It was still lush and majestic as it surrounded the turmoil which was the Popocatepetl. It made it quite acceptable that no one would bury them. Maybe they could finally face the sun without hurt. That idea was appealing. Them, creatures of the shadows, being granted a sunny grave.

“ _It's beautiful, don't you think?_ ”

“ _Is that what you were thinking about?_ ”

“ _Partly. Could you feel them, my thoughts?_ ”

“ _Yes. They are the only reason we are still flying forward_.”

If that was the case, then she would give him more serene thoughts to focus on.

“ _Do you know when I fell in love with you?_ ” she asked as the cabin filled with the stink of volcanic fumes. She reached for Quinlan's pocket and took the coffin on her lap. He said nothing, but she could feel his reluctance in the subtle tension of his jaw and how stubbornly he refused to look her way. At least, he had not tried to stop her.

“ _No...you never told me_ ,” he finally answered.

“ _After our first night, when in the morning you played the piano,  you told me how sorry you were and you looked down like you expected me to scold you. To tell you that your apology was insufficient_.”

They slowed and hovered. The sounds of the furnace below were deafening but thankfully, their voices always rang clear in their minds. She forced the small window on her side open and ash poured inside the cabin.

“ _And at that moment I knew that if I had said no, you would have walked away and accepted it. Even if that perspective terrified you_.”

She took the box in her hands and stroked it. It felt smooth but she knew that inside, the Master was tortured by the silver. As they lowered closer to the gaping mouth of the volcano, she pushed the coffin out of her window. It caught the light for a brief moment then was swallowed by the ashes. She closed the window. The helicopter came about and accelerated rapidly.

“ _You were brave for saying that. And I thought you were noble because I had never demanded that apology in the first place_. _You did not do it because you felt I needed it, but because it was the right thing to do._ ”

The wings of his nose flared and his blue eyes turned shiny. They would need to start their descent now, or they would overshoot the forest. Dying in the streets which lay ahead was a much less comforting prospect.

In this little spot in her head where Quinlan gave her his thoughts, a call arose. She knew that voice. It was the same one as when the crimson worm had touched the silver. It was **him**. The lead had melted. How disgusting that they should suffer his presence now of all moments.

It was getting stronger. She could feel the Master's desire to escape. The pointless crawl through the fire. He was not yet dead but aware of his impending end.

“ _Please, land_.”

Quinlan looked at her but the helicopter still flew forward with no indication of slowing.

“ _Maybe if we are far enough..._ ” he said.

But she knew he could feel it too. That spot in their minds that they shared was cracking. Like an old painting. It would soon disintegrate. This was not something they could run from.

“ _Please, land now.”_

Then because she was desperate and this was her last desire she added:

“ _Quinlan, I wish to die in your arms_.”

He winced as if the words had pierced through his ribs and knicked his heart. His face contorted with pain. Worse than when she had shown him one of her horrible memories, and worst than when she had snapped after Hinata’s death. Nothing she had ever said or done had hurt him deeper than those words. She was deeply sorry but it had been necessary. The helicopter slowed and she almost smiled when she looked below. There was a patch of forest and next to it, a grassy hill. The vegetation was shaken by waves as they descended upon it.

It almost looked like the place where they had met, but greener and lively. Sunlight still reached this region long enough for plants to thrive. The helicopter landed in the obscurity afforded by tall trees.

From this hill, they had a clear view of the volcano and the plume. The smoke did not rise lazily anymore, it spewed forth in angry rolling clouds.

Hand in hand, they stepped into the thick turf. Before she could turn to him and plunge between his outstretched arms, the Popocatepetl exploded. A flash of light set the ash cloud ablaze and the cap of the volcano was obliterated. They both collapsed before the shockwave reached them.

Lexi was yanked out of her body as if a hand had reached from inside her brain to tear her away from the world. She floated in the grainy grey of the lightless space. Vaguely, she could feel her physical form convulsing on the grass.

The Master’s scream was loud here because its source was close…almost in reach. But his swan song was deeming.

Quinlan was there with her and his appearance confused her. It was him as she always knew him, without cuts on his face and without a trace of his exhaustion. It was more than his soul, it was the entirety of his being. So when she reached and his hands felt warm and rugged, she was not surprised. She sighed in relief and clutched at his arms, marveling at the texture of his woolen coat, and the hardness of his muscles. His fingers dug into the waves of her hair and he pulled her close and tight, kissing her forehead and her cheeks and her lips. Then he looked into her face and smiled.

“Why are we here?” she asked.

“This place is our link to him."

His voice was the one he had when she had fallen in love with him. Low and thundery.

The Master’s scream was barely a murmur. Deep cracks formed below their feet and stretched as far as their eyes could see. From within the crevices, crimson light shone brighter and brighter. She flinched because that light was more painful than the sun.

“It’s falling apart. We are all falling apart,” she said, and she could not stop her voice from breaking on the last word.

From the cracks, louder than the Master’s voice, echoed a billion whispers. Those would be his children soon following him into silence. The two Dhampir exchanged a knowing look. What else was there to say in this instant?

She had known this moment would come, but she had never truly considered what she would do. Then as she looked into his, it seemed obvious. Those three words which had never needed to be spoken.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, so very much.”

She hid her face against his shoulder as crimson lights darted toward them.

 

Her consciousness started tearing as the red lances of the Master’s agony reached them. She wanted to scream.

 

They would not be walking quietly into eternal nothingness. She knew it. Their souls would shred and that process would be agony. Quinlan’s presence felt physical but she had no sensation for his soul. She too felt normal, because _all_ of her was here. So she would not cry out in anguish, and because she was tired of being brave, she reached for the dark room for the last time.

 

Her soul stopped tearing.

* * *

 

Quinlan awaited oblivion, though he did not welcome it. His arms squeezed his dearest one. He wanted his essence to disappear into hers. The Master was dying and their souls were dragged in his wake. It took effort to keep himself whole, despite the anguish and despite the pain. What a pointless struggle.

As he was about to stop resisting that pull, Lexi grabbed him by the lapel of his coat. He looked down at her face and saw her smile, not in resignation but in _triumph_. She pulled him and he did not resist. Together, they plunged into blackness. A smooth black, not a grainy gray. They fell away from the pull and away from the crimson.

 

He stood in the middle of a dusty basement. On his right, a wooden staircase led to a closed door. The brick walls were covered with shelves displaying jars in which floated drops of colored lights. Where was he? Where was Lexi? As soon as he thought those questions, she appeared by his side.

“Lexi? What is happening?”

“You’re in the dark room in my mind. Where I keep the monsters. Those who used to come out at night and prevent me from sleeping.”

So _this_ was where the calmness arose. Lexi touched her temple and grimaced.

“We cannot stay here long. Your presence is crushing me.”

Quinlan approached her, but she raised a palm and backed away.

“As soon as the Master is dead. Run out. Leave that room and the house.”

She pointed at the small window above them. Crimson lights faded like a sunset. The room quaked. They both stood immobile as if their own movements had caused the space to shift. Another tremor tossed them aside. Lexi slid down the wall under the window and Quinlan fought the urge to take her in his arms.

She looked very small, huddled on her herself like a child. On the shelves, the jars vibrated as if containing swarms of hornets. She stared at them and her neck disappeared between her shoulders. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her teeth rattled from the trembling of her jaw.

When the first jar exploded, she held her head and wailed. The red light was still visible. Quinlan peered around the room, looking for anything that might stop her suffering. But there were only the jars containing the monsters and one by one, his unnatural presence was freeing them. Blood dripped from his closed fists as he waited, powerless. Lexi was rocking on her knees, still screaming in horror.

The red lights disappeared and Quinlan obeyed her order. He rushed up the stairs and as soon as he cleared the dark room, he was violently projected out of Lexi’s mind.

 

The lightless space was no more. They faced each other surrounded by shimmering silver. She breathed heavily, the wings of her nose flaring with each inhalation. But when she looked at him, her exhaustion was not as strong as her relief.

“The Master is dead,” said Quinlan.

“Yes…but where are we now?”

“Heaven?”

If it meant staying here with her forever, then maybe it would not be too bad. When he tried to touch the dancing metal, it stretched away from his fingers. That wall surrounding them was impossibly gorgeous. It scintillated and swirled as they moved. He had no words.

Lexi was just as mesmerized even as she tried to catch her breath from the effort it had taken to contain his soul.

“Quinlan! Your body!”

Lexi panicked, grabbing at his disappearing hands and arms. But he remained calm because this did not feel wrong. Pure white light pierced the skin from within. He was floating again. The sensation was familiar.

 

He leaned back and landed in his body.

 

Moonshine spreading in the overcast bathed him in a bluish glow. He was alive. How long had they been unconscious? Quinlan crawled to Lexi’s body. His beloved lied still, only her hair moved in the breeze.

Drained, he lied on the grass facing her. She breathed gently, and he laughed and cried while kissing her beautiful face. Lexi stirred and he held her as strongly as his weak arms allowed. They stayed like this until the indigo sky turned deep ochre. Ashes fell over them like warm snow.

It was over. It was done. Finally, they could live.


	24. The city that never sleeps

 

The infinite hues of green on the hill soon turned a uniform grey, and the Dhampir left it without any rush. The forest and the surrounding human habitations were deserted. From the rest of that day and the next night, Lexi recalled very little. Although all was over and a deep and warm feeling of peace emanated from Quinlan, her own brain was a tight knot of ropes. Loud noises and moving shadows made the ropes snap.

When Quinlan suddenly bolted away to run after a stray horse, she almost burst into tears. He let the horse go, despite their thirst and let his own serenity pour into her to loosen the knot a little.

The dark room was no more and the monsters ran free within Lexi. It made the world seem like a giant beast whose claws could close around her at any moment. With infinite patience, Quinlan would embrace her when she was overwhelmed by the most trivial things. The only clear events from there on where their conversations, when she hid her face against his chest and he listened to her descriptions of the monsters that haunted her.

They drove on small country roads, stopping when the need or the desire arose. For the time being, Lexi asked to avoid populated areas and Quinlan did not mind. He appeared content even if it meant only drinking animal blood. So far their only encounters with other souls had been the occasional car driving by.

One night the sky was unusually clear above them and they laid on the large roof of a truck they had recently stolen. On the other side, some way away stood an arrangement of trees barely big enough to be called a forest. The blinking stars gathered in a stain running above the horizon. It made Lexi feel even smaller than she was but not in a crushing manner. She strained to gather the events of the last day and failed.

“ _Where are we?_ ” she asked.

“ _Somewhere in Kansas_.”

“ _I don’t remember driving here_.”

“ _That’s alright_.”

Quinlan rubbed his cheek against hers and caressed her back until she breathed in relief. Her tension decreased with each of the strokes. He smiled just enough to uncover his sharp teeth and she knew that at that moment she looked the same. The cuts on his face had closed but not disappeared. He looked fiercer than ever although his mission was over.

_So many scars._ Lexi touched them, with just the tip of her fingers and as she did, he looked at her through half-closed eyelids. She was glad her heart fluttered because he kissed her and not from fear.

Later that night she continued tracing the scars on his naked body. Their clothes were in a small pile at their feet. She kissed the sun-shaped brand on his left shoulder.

“ _How did this happen?_ ”

“ _This is a stigma, the mark of a criminal. The man who applied red hot silver to my skin chose this sigil to mock my repugnance of sunlight.”_

_“Oh…”_

“ _This was his way of alleviating his frustrations when I escaped crucifixion. Instead, I was sold to become a gladiator.”_

She shivered, and he turned on his side, obscuring the brand from her view.

“ _It was a mild punishment_.”

“ _You think you deserved slavery?_ ”

“ _Ha…I did not believe I deserved any of this per se. I did not think myself a prisoner since I was confident I could slay my captors and leave if I so desired. I was a slave in name, not in spirit. But I wished to learn about mankind and about fighting, so what stood in my way became my way_.”

She wanted to ask more because his past life was a source of unending fascination.

In the distance, tires screeched then a woman screamed in terror. The wind carried the smell of blood and both Dhampir were instantly on their feet. The back of her throat twinged and the knot of her mind tightened. The scent was eminently appetizing. No animal blood caught their attention quite like this one. But her mind fought her against investigating the origins of that scent. When Quinlan took his sword and sprang ahead, she reluctantly followed.

They stopped when familiar hisses suddenly accompanied the smell.

“ _Is this in my head?_ ” asked Lexi.

“ _No, this is real_.”

Half a dozen Strigoi broke the tree line and approached tentatively. With their unmistakable ammonia stink and red blood smeared on their chins. Quinlan’s lips lifted and he rattled menacingly. The Strigoi froze. Quinlan stepped forward and the creatures yelped like kicked dogs as they fled.

“ _Usually, they run away only after I kill most of them_ ,” said Quinlan.

“ _Does it mean we failed? Does this mean the Master is still alive?_ ”

“ _No…I believe we were mistaken in assuming their bodies would die with the Master_.”

He pursued them and Lexi once again followed against her best judgment. The Strigoi were all dead when she caught up to him. He slashed the air and with a whistling noise, the blood and worms slid off the blade. The origin of the human blood was very close, and they walked to it. On the nearby road, next to a crashed car was the body of a dead woman.

They had not just taken her blood, they had torn into her as if rabid. The ropes in Lexi’s head snapped tighter than ever and she lost herself.

Lexi ran for her life because monsters were after her. They had just killed Emily and she would be next.

_The rapid tip-tap of shoes smacking the road was upon Lexi and Emily. Three creatures now towered over them and their eyes were fixated on Emily. Lexi tried to shield her but frantic, they pushed her violently out of the way and started tearing into the pregnant women. As her friend’s body was splayed open, Lexi could not scream._

_Another silhouette appeared, tall and pale-skinned. It distracted her just a second too long and the monster that had once been her significant other pounced on her. The silhouette suddenly stood between them and grabbed the monster by the neck, lifting it off the ground without effort. Just as easily, the man snapped the vertebrae in his grasp and turned to Lexi whose panic was almost equal to her confusion._

_“Lexi…this is not real. This is the memory of another time, of a previous life. You are safe now.”_

_The pale-skinned man crouched in front of her and caressed her cheek. His eyes, the stripes on his face and his pointy ears were not human but seeing them filled her with reassurance **.**_

**_I will fear no evil, for you are with me._ ** _The asphalt road, Emily’s body, and the snarling monsters all faded away._

Lexi sat on the road, another road. This was the present. There were no Strigoi around. Quinlan advanced toward her, undressed and carrying his sword. Her muscles were still rushing with blood as her heart pumped frantically.

“ _Lexi, beloved, I know it pains you to be shackled to your past but be sure of one thing…_ ”

He lifted her with his free arm and hugged her against his warm skin.

“ _Whatever tricks your mind plays on you, I will pull you back to me. Always._ ”

She held on to him with the desperation of a drowning woman.

 

* * *

 

The Strigoi avoided them like a mouse would steer clear of the scent of a cat. They were wild animals, rudderless and stupid but still dangerous for humans. Two days after the Dhampir made that discovery they waited inside an abandoned store because they had not found a residential area before the sunlight hours.

“ _We have to go back to New York_ ,” said Lexi as she perused the few clothes that looters had left behind.

“ _I understand, but it might be wise to wait. Until you are better_.”

She was so clearly unwell now. Since she had seen that woman on the road and a nightmare had swallowed her whole. The thin skin under her eyes had turned deep grey, and he almost had to beg her to drink regularly. She walked a little hunched and because of that, he could see the frailty of her human days.

“ _Right now…I want to lock myself in the back of this store and never come out_ ,” she said and turned away from him to remove her old shirt. Quinlan cared very little that she bore scars but she did and sometimes shied from his gaze because of them. He did not force the issue.

“ _But if I indulge that desire, I fear I will spiral and never come back. We must keep going_ ,” she said.

“ _I trust your judgment._ ”

“ _Thank you._ ”

Before she could put on the clean clothes she had chosen, he hugged her and breathed heavily in the hollow of her neck. He was careful to avoid touching where the Master had clawed her. She leaned back onto him and her entire body relaxed. At least once a day since the Master’s death, Quinlan would be struck with the realization that the reward he craved before flying to the volcano was happening right now. It would not last a single hour, it would last as long as they both lived.

“ _On the way to New York, there is a thing we need to do, a small detour_ ,” said Lexi.

“ _Let us speak of this later_.”

* * *

 

The perimeter alarm blared and the woman breathed, for she knew her savior was on her doorstep. Two hooded silhouettes approached from the southern path and the smallest one waved enthusiastically at the camera. Laura bit back tears and hugged her confused daughter.

“Mommy?” said Emma.

“Do you remember the lady on the road, Lexi?”

The child nodded and Laura lifted her so she could sit across her lap.

“Look! It’s her. Do you remember what her friend’s name was?”

Emma shook her head.

“Quinlan.”

“Oh yes, I remember. It’s weird.”

“Yes.”

Laura gave the room a cursory glance. It was reasonably clean though at the moment their breakfast was still on the kitchen table. She also checked the other rooms. They had not used the bedroom with all the drawings, except to use some items it contained.

Mother and daughter slept in the empty bedroom because the other obviously belonged to Lexi. At the lower level, the plants thrived just as the strange woman had asked. Mostly, Laura had done everything she had demanded. Except for one little thing.

The large chest freezer in the kitchen, she could not stop herself from looking inside. It was a little like Pandora’s box. As soon as her brain finally understood that those were hundreds of blood bags, she had slammed that freezer shut but the image had stayed with her.

She had grown almost obsessive about that mystery. It rummaged through her brain as she cared for Emma, or when she labored in the garden. Why would people need blood?

Then she remembered the night they had met Lexi and how fast she had killed those two men. And that voice. Low and with a strange _texture_ to it. At the time she had imagined that their savior had been sick or that she had suffered some form of damage to her voice box. Laura had an uncle who spoke strangely after suffering the consequences of heavy smoking. But that was different.

Lexi had also moved in obscurity as though she could see. Almost guilty, Laura had entered the room she _knew_ had been Lexi’s and searched for answers. She had found a whole lot of nothing at first. Clothes, drawings and more material to draw, books, even some shampoo, and soap and other necessities that any woman would have. The piano stood against the wall, mockingly mundane. Then even more guilty, she had flipped through the pages of notebooks sprawled over the large table.

Almost all of those were filled with sketches of cats, landscapes and plants. Except for one. It was small and blue, stuck in the middle of a larger notebook and appeared to have been forgotten there. Its first pages were just like the others, random doodlings but then…words. The same handwriting left on the medicine in sickbay and the few careful notes in the binder.

These appeared to be the ramblings of an insane person. Except when they started making sense. Some lines detailed the events leading to the Strigoi invasion. With mentions of the plane and later on of the nuclear warhead which had exploded in New York. But the passages in between and after were almost too much for Laura to believe. Talk of decapitating the Master, some kind of Strigoi super king, or imprisoning him. Or machines to scramble his brains. The recountings of plans and of failures. Of many failures.

The handwriting decreased in quality as she progressed through the pages. On the last page containing words, the handwriting was neat again and written with a different kind of pencil. And on that page there was hope. A new plan. Making a new coffin of silver and lead and locking the worm inside. On the last line, circled several times so hard that the pencil had almost pierced the paper, “ **No Master no Strigoi**.”

After that, there was only one more drawing. Merely a sketch made very quickly in broad lines and rushed strokes. Either because it had been drawn from memory or furtively.

It was a man but with features that made Laura deeply uncomfortable. Hairless, pointed ears and the suggestion of triangular incisors between thin lips. Laura had slapped that notebook shut.

The night after she found it, she lulled her daughter to sleep by reading her _The Hobbit_ for the fourth time. At least. Now Emma made plans of becoming a Hobbit as if it were an occupation just like teacher or plumber.

 After her daughter fell asleep, she read through the notebook again and did so almost every night following its discovery.

Slowly the possibility that Lexi and Quinlan had not been exactly human had imposed itself to her. And as awful as this seemed there was undeniable goodness to some of the facts Laura had garnered about Lexi. She had saved her and Emma then given her this place. And if the blue notebook did not contain the ravings of a tortured mind, then they had been working on something important. They had wanted to save _everyone._

 ***

So when the elevator came down and Lexi stepped out of it still wearing her hood, Laura was prudently happy and so very _curious._

“I am glad you are well,” said Lexi.

Now that she expected it, the strangeness of that voice was obvious.

“I’m glad you found your friend. Are you going to remove that hood and those glasses?”

“Maybe not,” said Lexi, amused.

“I think you should.”

“Why is that?”

Lexi cocked her head and in the shadows of her hood, her lips stretched briefly.

“Because I found your blue notebook and I looked in the freezer.”

“Did you now…?”

Lexi was definitely smiling now, and her teeth were like the man’s on the sketch. She removed her gloves and her glasses and pulled her hood back. The rest of her face was also similar, from the lines on her forehead and cheeks to this strange thing on her throat.

“Well, that went better than I expected,” Lexi said and appeared relieved.

“Is Lexi an elf?” asked Emma

In the elevator, the man laughed, and he sounded like a dog barking. Laura blushed at her daughter’s remark. She had had a very limited number of age-appropriate books to go through but right now she regretted indulging her daughter’s obsession with Middle Earth.

Lexi smiled but with closed lips, hiding her teeth as she crouched to face Emma. She pulled back the hair covering her ears and Emma squealed and pointed at them while shaking her mother’s hand.

“Yes, I am,” said Lexi. “So is my friend. Do you want to see him?”

Lexi glanced at Laura who nodded in agreement. Very slowly the man in the elevator crossed the control room and also uncovered his features. Emma’s excitement was somewhat diminished.

“Elves have hair,” said Emma. “But your ears are nice,” she added as a very poor attempt at hiding her disappointment.

It was him, the man on the sketch and his appearance seemed more savage than Lexi’s. Especially with all those scars. Laura’s skin rose in intense goosebumps because his eyes, so inhuman, were fixated on Emma.

“Well,” he said, and his voice was just as strange. “I am fortunate my ears are to your liking.”

His amusement made his features only slightly softer.

“We have a few things to tell you,” said Lexi and she did not appear to mind Emma little fingers reaching for her hair.

“Is it about the Master?”

Quinlan now stared at her and his eyes were piercing as he detailed Laura too intensely, on the verge of rudeness. They all sat at the kitchen table and Emma roamed around the newcomers.

“If you read my notebook then there are a few things you already know…the Master and how he started all this and how it could only end if he was stopped.”

“Yes…But frankly, I had trouble believing it for a long time.”

They sat around the kitchen table and Laura hesitated to offer them a cup of tea or some food. What was appropriate in such a situation?

“That’s understandable but it was true and the Master had to end.”

She could not help but notice the past tense. Quinlan sat straighter on his chair when Emma attempted to reach for the handle of his sword. Laura made big eyes at her daughter who ran back to her.

“I’m sorry about that,” said Laura as Quinlan stood and shed his harness and coat which he placed on top of the pantry. She took Emma on her lap and with a stern look.

“Did you get him?” asked Laura.

Had they come back to regroup after yet another failure? Lexi seemed exhausted. Laura did not dare hope.

“The Master is dead,” said Quinlan.

Laura wanted to go home. She wanted her daughter to have a future beside hiding in a hole and hoping to live another day. And now she would. Laura kissed Emma on the top of the head and her thin blonde hair tickled her nose. She could become a damn Hobbit if she wished. Anything.

“The nightmare is _almost_ over,” said Lexi with a grimace.

“What?”

“The Strigoi are still out there just...undirected,” said Quinlan.

“But the Partnership? The camps? They’re gone?”

 “We have seen some camps and they were empty. We are going to New York to inquire about the state of the country,” said Lexi.

They were going to leave.

“We are coming with you.”

Lexi made an unsure “huh” sound.

“We are. My daughter will not grow up _here_ , alone.”

“You will be safe in the bunker,” said Quinlan.

“But for how long? If we wait until we are as safe out there as we are in here then my daughter will never see the light of day again,” said Laura.

Quinlan raised a brow but did not answer.

“We don’t really know,” said Lexi. “We don’t have a precedent to refer to.”

“We’ve been hiding for long enough.”

Lexi and Quinlan looked at one another for an awkwardly long moment.

“We will go to New York, and you are free to join us _but…”_ said Lexi.

“If we judge that you and your child are exposed to undue risk, we will bring you back here. Whether you like it or not.”

The tone was final and would not tolerate any objection. Laura did not want to object because she did not want to see what happened if he became truly irritated.

 ***

Laura had suggested both she and her daughter wanted to go back to civilization but Emma was dead set on making a liar out of her. The child was not keen on going anywhere. As a four-year-old, her memories of the outside world were limited to mayhem. As soon as Laura announced their departure in terms she could understand, the little girl had planted her feet down. A tantrum was brewing and Laura could see that nothing short of a miracle would defuse it.

Lexi and Quinlan stood near the elevator waiting for her to manage her progeny and it was mortifying. Then it started. Her little upturned nose wrinkled, her eyes squinted, she dropped to her knees and wailed. Laura massaged her temples. Lexi and Quinlan were probably judging her parenting skills. Carefully, she glanced at the couple.

Lexi’s eyes were panicked, and she backed up against the wall. Quinlan picked her up gingerly and disappeared into her bedroom. Emma had been too engrossed in her own crying to notice.  

 ***

They postponed their departure for the early hours of the next day when sleepiness made Emma more malleable. Laura thought about Lexi’s haunted face and why a crying child should send her in such a state.

The little girl drooled on Laura’s shoulder as they crossed the field above the bunker to find the car hidden under dead branches. Quinlan drove and every time he accelerated a little too much, Lexi would clear her throat and he would slow. Fully awake, Emma fidgeted and complained. It appeared that she might cry again and Laura wanted to avoid that. How would Lexi react again?

“We have to go back before night or they are going to find us,” said Emma with her face and Laura’s chest.

“Who will find you?” asked Lexi.

“The goblins.”

Then she lowered her voice and Lexi leaned between the passenger and driver’s seat as if receiving a secret.

“They are scared of the light but then at night, they come out,” whispered Emma.

Laura held her daughter tighter and promised herself to burn that damn book as soon as possible.

“Do you think elves like Quinlan and I are afraid of goblins?”

“No!”

“And are goblins afraid of elves?”

“I think so.”

“Then why are you acting so scared? You are with us, and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

The four-year-old was placated by this demonstration of pure logic. She extirpated herself from Laura’s hug and looked at her as if she had made an embarrassing sound.

“Being scared is stupid.”

“Only sometimes…” said Laura but Emma was no longer listening. She looked out the window in awe. It had been a long time since she had seen more than concrete walls. Lexi turned back to face the road. Without looking, Quinlan reached for her hand. Laura wanted to ask what their natures truly were and would not accept “elf” as an answer.

The opportunity came when they stopped around noon for a brief moment. Laura had made the child eat a snack and then almost instantly she had passed out in the back of the car. Lexi and Laura waited for Quinlan to come back. He had gone looking for more gas in the nearest town.

“You’re not actually an elf, are you?” asked Laura as they sat in the shade of a tree.

“Ha! No. And there are no goblins out there either.”

“Are you some kind of Strigoi?”

It would explain the blood and their physique. Lexi rubbed her neck and stretched her back.

“We are Dhampir and we do share traits with the Strigoi but we are _not_ of their kind.”

Laura did not quite know what to make of this information though it was satisfying to have been correct. She only had more questions, but Lexi was quicker.

“What did you do before the Fall?” 

“I worked for the Oklahoma water resources board,” she replied and wondered if that made any sense to a non-human being.

“That’s important. You will be needed again then.”

“Probably but not where I lived. There is no one left there.”

They had been shipped away in trucks, and Laura had fled with Emma by the skin of their teeth.

“I’m sure you’ll find a new position anywhere. Sooner or later.”

Lexi perked up and a few seconds later Quinlan arrived out of nowhere. He held a canister which stank and made soft sloshing sounds.

“We can depart,” he announced and filled the tank.

“Were there people? In that town?” asked Laura.

She so wanted to see another human face.

“No,” said Quinlan and he put the empty canister in the trunk.

They resumed their drive and after a few minutes, without any apparent reason, Lexi chuckled and leaned toward Quinlan to kiss him on the cheek. Then she extracted a paper bag from his large pocket.

“For when she wakes up…there are no elves or goblins in those,” she whispered and handed four colorful books to Laura.

They were illustrated and meant for very young children. All of them had a certain shine and smell typical of brand new books. Their covers stuck one another as if they had been pressed together for a long time. Laura’s throat felt very tight.

 

* * *

 

Gus shouted for retreat. It felt like the only thing he had done for the past month. Ever since Quinlan and Lexi had gone and half a day later the Strigoi had collapsed and convulsed. Ever since those same Strigoi had woken up again, thirsty as ever.

And now they were everywhere and New Yorkers could only leave their homes around noon when the light forced those motherfucking Strigs below. To take a nap after a night spent terrorizing, killing and infecting. Gus also wanted to sleep.

The SUVs were just a block ahead, but they were not retreating fast enough. A man a few paces behind was overrun and screamed as three stingers stole his blood. Raul turned around and shot him in the head then after a second of hesitation, also shot the Strigoi running at him.

“I said _retreat_ , cabron!” said Gus and he pulled his cousin along.

That night, they lost four people. Two to the Strigoi and two who returned home because they preferred leaving the task of cleaning up New York to others.

Good riddance, fucking quitters.

Amongst the shelves of depleted contraband, Gus found a bottle of pain killers of which he popped two before washing them down with a swig of whiskey. The last of it. He grabbed two ration packs and ate upstairs with his soldiers, gathered around the large television screen. They too ate their two protein bars. Since they were _officially_ part of the cleaning effort, they got double the rations compared to the rest of the populace. Gus deposited the bottle pain killers in front of Raul who clutched a bag of ice over his shoulder.

“How is the arm?” asked Gus.

Raul grunted, the vocal equivalent of a shrug he could not physically make right now. At least the joint had not dislocated again. The phone rang behind the bar, and he heaved himself off the couch. His back made popping noises and some of its stiffness alleviated.

“What?” he barked into the phone.

“It’s Costello,” said a woman.

As if he was expecting a phone call from anyone else. She was the new Mayor of the city. Before the Fall she had been something like the fiftieth in charge or whatever. Gus didn’t care.

“I’ve got five more people to join and another shipment of gear. They should get to you with the next sunlight.”

“We lost Red Hook again and two of your last batch packed up their shit and left today.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I thought you said you’d fix that?”

“There is only so much I can give them. More food, shelter and a comfortable pension when it’s done. What else is there?”

She sounded almost as tired as he was New York was a giant dumpster fire and she attempted to put it out with a glass of water.

“I don’t give a crap how you do it. I kill Strigs and _you_ find soldiers. Or do you wanna switch?”

“No, I fucking don’t. But that’s not why I called you.”

Gus leaned against the bar and pinched the bridge of his nose. His hand stank of gunpowder and sweat. What else now?

“You asked me to find that woman, Miss Gupta.”

Gus slowly sank to the floor and clenched his teeth.

“The internet came back two days ago and lists are just now uploaded and…”

“Just fucking tell me!” he screamed.

The soldiers went quiet, and someone cut off the sound of the television.

“She is alive.”

He laughed and cried at the same time. Costello waited until he stopped.

“Can you bring her here?”

“Yeah, I can. She is not very far, but there is something you need to know about where she spent all that time.”

“She okay?”

“Yes…”

“Then I don’t give a shit.”

Costello sighed and explained. And Gus had been right, he really did not give a shit.

 ***

Gus stood by the window, chewing his lower lip. It was almost noon and the streets were brightening. It was safe to go out. Raul was cleaning his gun and Gus’ on the coffee table facing the television.

“Go sleep for fuck’s sake. You have no idea when she’ll arrive,” said Raul.

“I’m not tired,” said Gus.

“Yeah, right.”

Raul reassembled his Glock in seconds and racked its slide. Satisfied, he inserted the magazine full of silver bullets in its well. He repeated the same process with Gus’s weapon.

“I’m gonna chat with the new meat Costello sent yesterday. How about you go and check if your room is decent. In case you left some porn lying around…”

Gus stared at his cousin in mild shock and amusement. This was a remark he would have expected from Amir, not from him. Raul put his gun in his side holster then on his way to the staircase, handed Gus his clean M9.

 ***

The Sun Hunter searched for something else to clean or tidy but the space positively gleamed. He sat on his bed and tried to imagine how Aanya would see all this. The bed was neatly made and smelled of freshly changed sheets. The polished cement floors were almost spotless if not for a speck of dried paint there and there. There was a table by one of the occluded windows, with a small television screen on which rested a picture of Gus and his mother. Everything could burn in this flat except for this one picture. By the bed, there were shelves with clothes and some books. On a chair, a pair of boxing gloves which had until the previous day been gathering dust and now shone under the artificial lights.

He was ashamed of the sterility and emptiness of his living quarters. Not even a carpet or a painting. Gus held his face and lied on the bed with a grunt. It looked like a prison cell, not a home. For a minute he considered grabbing one of the SUVs downstairs to drive to the Upper Eastside or the suburbs and steal some furniture. Before he could decide he fell asleep.

 ***

A knock on his door jolted him awake and his body flooded with adrenaline. He stood and wiped at his face as though to remove any trace of sleep from it.

“Yeah?” he said.

The door opened slowly and he instantly stared at the fingers holding it. They were thin and golden brown. Gus almost ran because there she was. Aanya stood in his room and though she smiled that expression was tainted with worry. She wore a loose flannel shirt and baggy pants and her hair was much longer than before the Fall. And she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever met. He wanted to cry when she accepted his hug and his kiss. She smelled very different now, of shampoo but without any trace of the strong spices which used to always cling to her.

“You stayed in the city all this time?” she asked.

She sounded proud, and that made his chest feel large and full.

“Lots to do.”

Then because he suddenly wanted to get it out of the way he asked,

“What happened after you left? Your parents?”

She shook her head and looked down.

“And here? Angel? I didn’t see him downstairs.”

“He didn’t make it.”

She didn’t cry, but her large black eyes were grave. When he tried to hold her by the hips, she took a step back, a little panicked.

“I…I…,” she said and put a shaky hand above her mouth.

“Yeah I know,” he said.

“You do?”

And it was obvious she did not believe him. So he walked to her, kneeled and pressed his face against her round midsection hidden under the loose flannel. She stroked his shaved head and made a quiet strangled sound.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispered.

“They caught us a month in. That’s not your fault.”

“I should have gone with you.”

She held his face up.

“It’s not your fault.”

And this time he did not believe her though he really wanted to. He also wanted to find every single person who had put their hands on her, every single doctor, every single nurse, and all those pencil pushers and he wanted to kill them himself.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” he asked because he did not want to think such violent thoughts right next to her pregnant belly.

“A girl.”

He smiled and pressed his ear against the roundness as if hoping to hear her move. Gus was about to ask when she would be born when Aanya spoke with a very small voice.

“The first one was a boy…but they took him. They said the babies would be adopted out, but they were lying…they killed him. They killed all of them.”

She was crying by the time she was done speaking. Gus stood and led her to the bed, so she could cry all she wanted. He had known that too.

“This one they won’t have. She will be fine. It’s over now, we just need to finish some cleaning and before you know it, she’ll grow up a true New Yorker.”

She did not stop crying, and he did not mind.

“Did you choose a name for her?”

“No, not yet.”

He removed her shoes and pulled the blanket over her.

“Will you tell me? What happened here after I left?” she asked.

“Sure.”

He removed his own boots and slid under the covers.

“You remember that weird-ass guy who showed up at the restaurant?”

Aanya nodded vigorously. Quinlan was a difficult man to forget. And he told her almost everything but glossed over the violence and the deaths and the loss. He made it look like a victory because that was what she needed to hear. But then he thought of that baby, how no one would take her away and how Aanya was back and safe. For the first time since the battle of Central Park, it did feel like a victory.

 ***

_Angela_. Aanya had chosen to call her baby Angela, and Gus could not stop thinking about them. He thought about the building which had once been his black market and now housed men and women who killed Strigs for a living. That did not seem like a good place to raise a baby. But then again, maybe it was the _only_ safe place to raise a child. Everyone was armed to the teeth in there and Strigoi would not find a way in, even if they still had any brains left.

During his outings, he sometimes brought back small items he thought she might need. A blanket, a brush, some baby clothing. When he came back one morning with a carton full of heavy volumes, she glanced at the contents and scratched the tip of her nose.

“Huh, …what are those?”

“Some books on medicine…in case you’re still interested. Med schools are not going to re-open right away but I thought…you might want to get a head start.”

He grabbed one of them and handed it to her, particularly happy to have found it. The title was _Clinical Respiratory Medicine._ Gus had had to give the Librarian a silver blade and canned foods to get those books but that was a bargain from his point of view.

“But with the baby and…”

He put the book back down.

“Whatever you want to do, I’ll make it happen,” said Gus.

“ _If_ the schools do open again…who will take care of Angela while I study? Med school is a full-time job.”

“Plenty of families make it work even when both parents have full-time jobs.”

And there it was, the worry on her face again. Every time he suggested that he would be there for _both_ of them.

“You know, I don’t mind being a stay-at-home dad. Retirement sounds good.” - she smiled, but her eyes were still sad - “We’ll go to the park…hell, I’ll even learn finger painting. That’s the dream.”

Then he teased her because he wanted her to laugh.

“Maybe you’re scared I’ll spoil her rotten?”

He missed the mark, she did not laugh but at least she huddled against him.

 ***

With the perspective of soon becoming a father, there was a slew of new fears Gus had not expected. Well, it was not like he had tons of time to prepare and those were not normal circumstances. When he walked into nests of stinking Strigs, he was scared of not coming back. Gus pictures Raul climbing up the stairs to his flat and opening the door and that Aanya would look into his face and know right away what had happened. That terrified him more than anything. Having a lot to lose kinda sucked sometimes.

“Raul, _pinche puto!_ ”

His cousin stormed into the nest ahead of everyone and Gus wanted to punch him in the face. It was mostly with luck that they cleared the building without anyone getting stung. They reached the last floor and Gus breathed until he spotted the newest guy Costello had sent.

“What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to guard the street!”

“Huh, …everyone was going in so…”

“You fucking idiot.”

Surely, they could be lucky for just five more minutes. But no. He reached the entrance door just as a horde of Strigoi barreled down the street, attracted by the noise and the smells of their bodies. Gus spat a string of swears. All they had needed to get away safely was a thirty-second heads up. The SUVs were right there parked in the street and now completely inaccessible. The soldiers were outnumbered at least three to one. He closed the entrance of the building just as the first Strigoi smashed against it violently. Maybe they could make it out if they held their ground until the sunlight.

Raul was already closing off the access to the flats in the hallway. But that would not keep them out very long. The creatures were now too dumb to use a door handle, but they could smash their way through given enough time. The ground level windows shattered as the first wave of creatures invaded the flats and instantly scratched at the doors. _Shit_.

They would all die here, and Aanya would never even know what had happened.

Gus would never meet Angela.

Only two flats had windows facing that street which left three possible ways for the Strigoi to reach them. Two doors the main entrance.

They were ready for their onslaught and judging by the way the wooden panels were splintering, it would come sooner rather than later. A bead of sweat ran down Gus’ temple. The Strigoi stopped throwing themselves at the doors. They screeched and inside the flats, furniture smashed around. Bodies made soft sounds as they hit the floor. Gus looked at Raul who seemed just as confused as he was. Those were the sounds of Strigoi dying and they were both extremely familiar with them.

There was silence except for the heavy breathing of the soldiers and the loud beats of his own heart filling his head.

Someone knocked at the front door.

They all stared with slacking jaws. After five seconds, the knocking sounds resumed, more pressing this time.

“Augustin Elizalde, will you please come out?”

That voice was a kick in the stomach. It was a goddamn ghost.

“Holy shit,” whispered Raul, and he immediately ran and opened the door.

Two people stood in the middle of the street, hooded and so familiar. Marcus and Miguel murmured excitedly to one another. Brevil had been quite clear Lexi and Quinlan were dead and since the Strigoi had gotten up, Gus had doubted him. Then he had heard that the volcano had exploded so violently that anything anywhere close to it had burned. Obviously, they had not been that close. He shook his head and his smile was bitter.

“What the fuck took you so long?” he asked and avoided the cut-up Strigoi littering the pavement.

“We needed time to lick our wounds,” said Quinlan and both of them uncovered their heads.

Quinlan had gnarly scars across his face. Lexi was skinnier than Gus remembered and by all standards human or Dhampir, she looked like shit. Her eyes seemed sunken. And her skin was greyish instead of pure white.

“You were wrong,” said Raul and he too stared at Lexi. “They did not die.”

Lexi looked down, ashamed.

“Yes, we learned of our mistake after the fact,” said Quinlan. “Our error lied in assuming that death of the mind and that of the body were the same. We are here to remedy it.”

Gus resented them. Part of him blamed those two for Amir, for Arturo, for Julio and for all who had died since Central Park. But the other half of him was relieved beyond measure. He felt like a kid with a scraped knee whose parent just arrived to take care of business. He would never admit to that though, not even on his death bed.

 ***

Back at the headquarters, Gus instantly noticed a beat-up car amongst the black SUVs. Then when they all exited their vehicles, he froze at a sound he had not heard in years. A child laughing. At the dinner table, a woman he did not know sat with a little girl on her lap, and Aanya was telling her things that made her screech in delight.

“Who’s that?” Gus asked Lexi.

“A friend we picked on the way,” she said after Quinlan discretely grabbed her hand. “This is Laura and her daughter Emma. I hope you don’t mind if they stay here for the time being.”

Gus was about to retort that he did mind. That this was _his_ place and _he_ had to decide who was allowed to even come in. But then again, Aanya was smiling and laughing. The building was always filled with men and women running around with weapons and she had little in common with them.

“Fine. But we’re gonna have to go triple on the rooms very soon, cause we’re running out of space.”

If they stayed here, they would need to modify the building to allow for more sleeping quarters. After all, now that the market was dissolved, did they really need the lower level to be filled with all those shelves and crates?

“Your room is occupied right now, but we’ll do some shuffling around. You’ll get it back,” said Gus.

“The metal trunk is in the vault. We didn’t touch it,” said Raul.

“Thank you,” said Lexi. She smiled softly.

Aanya was approaching carefully with her incredibly large eyes full of curiosity. Obviously, she had not yet met the Dhampir. She was not yet accustomed to their schedule and had probably just woken up. Quinlan and Lexi stared and though Aanya wore very large clothes, both their eyes traveled to her belly. Then they looked at one another. He seemed worried, and she started with a smile and then a scowl which made Quinlan look away. They were so annoying with that mind-reading bullshit.

“That’s Quinlan and that’s Lexi,” said Gus to break the awkward silence.

“I’m Aanya.”

Lexi thrust a hand toward her, and Aanya shook it and then pulled her hand back against her chest.

“Warm,” she said in fascination.

Gus jutted his chin toward Raul and pointed at the soldiers. Raul gave him a thumb up and took charge of all the post-mission procedures.

“Let’s sit down. I’ve got a shit ton of questions,” said Gus.

His back was aching again. He was hungry, tired and in serious need of a shower. Despite all that crap, he was hopeful. He pulled Aanya close and planted a noisy kiss on her forehead. He would meet Angela for sure.

 

 

 


	25. A baptism in blood

 

The Master had been the repository of all the Strigoi’s combined consciousnesses. All their memories, their voices had been extinguished with him. Lexi and Quinlan had been very close to follow. Had they not had the benefit of the black room as an anchor, they too would have lost their essence.

Quinlan endeavored not to imagine Lexi as a soulless creature, roaming the wilderness around the Popocatepetl. And he mostly succeeded because he was more at ease than he had ever been. His only worry was the torment of her mind, but he was confident she would prevail.

This disease was nothing novel. It inevitably came with war, and Quinlan had seen plenty of it.

The others had noticed, of course. How could they not? So far, after an entire month since their return, the men had said nothing because they did not speak of such matters. Of perceived weakness and of the possibility that horrible events might have horrible consequences on a psyche.

Quinlan carded his fingers through Lexi’s hair. Her mane was long now, almost as long as the day they had met. She had taught him how to braid her hair, the way he liked, the way that made her look fierce. When he touched her hair, she always purred with an absent-minded grin.

“ _Aanya will have her baby soon. Isn’t it strange?_ ”

And the way she said it made it sound like she meant wonderful rather than bizarre. They would hear the baby all too well but Quinlan was not worried. The last time Emma had cried, Lexi had not been thrown back even if it had been close. And they still had some time to prepare.

Though even without this issue, a crying babe would be disagreeable. Quinlan had heard plenty in two millennia and it was a wretched sound, demanding and impossible to ignore. He much preferred the peals of laughter of older children. Just like Emma when she ran around the communal room trying to engage the soldiers in her games. In fact, he loved that sound so much that the last time they had cleared a nest and he had spotted an abandoned toy, he had reached for it immediately. Unfortunately, Gus had also seen that toy and they had quietly argued for it. Because Emma could not be harmed by not receiving a toy but Gus would be antagonized, Quinlan had given it up.

“ _We should go down now, they just arrived,”_ she said and her ears twitched.

“ _They can wait, I am almost done_.”

He took his time and enclosed the tip of the French braid with a hair tie. As soon as they stepped out of the privacy of their bedroom, her relaxed state slipped away.

 

In the communal room, Gus, Raul and two unknown women they did not know were gathered around the largest table.

“That’s Amanda Costello, the Mayor, and that’s our brand-new medic, Dr…” said Gus.

“Dr. Maria Miller.”

She stayed firmly put behind the length of the table though she did not appear scared. She had bright red hair and a very freckled face. On her right, Amanda Costello appeared much older, probably in her fifties with short grey hair and intelligent eyes. Costello had insisted on meeting the Dhampir and used the introduction of the medical doctor assigned to the clearing effort of New York as an opportunity. Gus wanted someone who actually knew what they were doing when it came to healing. Quinlan suspected that his motivation was equally for his soldiers’ and for Aanya’s benefit. Costello opened her mouth to speak, but the doctor interrupted her.

“I was told someone here had a dislocated shoulder and that you have a pregnant woman and a child. I would like to see them.”

“I don’t need…,” said Raul and he instinctively stroked his arm.

“You first then. Let’s go, unless you enjoy permanent damage in your limbs,” said Dr. Miller as she reached down for a heavy-looking bag and strutted toward the stairs.

“Show her to her room and do as she says, pendejo,” said Gus.

Raul took a deep breath and followed the doctor.

“So…Quinlan and Lexi, the provisional government would like to know more about you,” said Costello.

“What would they like to know?” said Lexi.

“How many of you are there? Where were you all this time and…”

“There are only two of us. How we spent our time so far is none of your business. All you need to know is that we fought the Strigoi and will continue doing so. Our intentions toward your kind are peaceful,” said Quinlan.

“You understand that they might need more information,” said Costello.

“Tell them that we don’t have worms and only have modest ambitions. We want a world free of Strigoi, just like you,” said Lexi.

“They might not be happy with just that,” said Costello.

“Has Gus told you about the events leading to the end of the Master? What we have done for the past month?” asked Lexi.

“He has, and I have passed on this information.”

“Did you believe him?”

“Yes.”

“Did the rest of the provisional government believe it?”

“Some of them, yes.”

There was an awkward silence during which Gus sat down and the others followed. Quinlan stared at Lexi who would appear perfectly stoic to the humans. But he could see the way her shoulders dropped slightly as did the corners of her mouth.

“ _When the Master’s human servants are captured and interrogated, those suspicions will be quieted_ ,” he told her.

“ _Probably but…I had hoped our actions would speak for themselves.”_

“Ok then…about the new recruits, are you actively sending the stupidest people you can find or what’s up?” asked Gus.

Costello made a face as if she had bitten into a lemon.

“The smart ones quit before they can get killed.”

Gus’ lips disappeared into a fine line.

“We’re going to ramp up the advertising on the subject but we still have very limited resources,” she added. “We just had to evacuate entire neighborhoods and right now moving those people safely to less affected areas is the priority. Don’t get me wrong, I understand how crucial it is to find new soldiers but as I already told you, people aren’t motivated by food or the prospect of a nice retirement. They want to be safe, and they want that safety right now. So if they have a choice between catching Partnership scum or facing Strigs again they will prefer dealing with humans.”

“Soldiers…the word is apt, but it sends the wrong message. ‘Hunter’ would be more appropriate. The former implies that one fights an opponent on equal footing, but the latter makes it clear who has the advantage,” said Quinlan.

Costello took a small notebook from her inside pocket then licked the tip of her pen and wrote a few notes. Quinlan continued,

“And what you are offering them is practical but so very grim. You need to inspire, to create a recognizable banner to rally under. Some people will fight for riches, but others will fight for honor, for recognition, to acquire immortality through the memory and admiration of their peers. Those are the people who will stay even if it means death because they have seen so many die, anonymous and instantly forgotten.”

“And you will do that? Inspire them?” said Costello and she sized him up.

“I will guide that effort. For it to succeed, we need to offer them something which has been taken away from your kind since the Master ushered in the Fall.”

“And what’s that?”

“Pride.”

* * *

 

Quinlan was hunting Strigoi while Lexi stayed in the safety of the headquarters. There were times where she managed to fight the urge to hide and avoid the world, there were times where she lost that fight. Today she had lost.

She paced in front of the room which Dr. Miller used both as a practice of sort and a bedroom. For the fourth time, she raised her hand to knock, then dropped her arm and continued pacing.

“For crying out loud, either come in or piss off,” said Miller.

Lexi chose to come in and when the doctor saw her, she blushed.

“Oh. It’s _you_.”

Lexi hid her amusement and closed the door. Miller cleared her throat and sat professionally behind her desk. The effect was somewhat ruined by the redness of her cheeks and neck.

“What can I do for you?”

“I have scars and…they hurt.”

The doctor jumped to her feet and invited Lexi to seat on an examination bed.

“Please show me.”

Lexi removed her shirt, revealing the five marks on her core. The doctor maintained her composure but her cheeks reddened.

“When did the injuries occur?”

“Two months ago.”

“That’s not possible.”

“We heal fast.”

Lexi touched the middle mark, the one that had almost killed her.

“My lung was pierced through here but a few hours later I could walk and breathe by myself. Do not use human standards. Our metabolism is faster than you can imagine.”

“Well, that explains your temperature. Not a fever then.”

Miller put on rubber gloves and palpated the scars . Lexi flinched and chastised herself for it. She concluded her examination and Lexi dressed. They sat at the desk.

“My best guess is that the nerves are growing back and that this is causing some discomfort. It might go away by itself but there are strategies which we can use but I would like to stick to physiotherapy rather than medication or surgery.”

She devised a plan and wrote down a list of appointments for Lexi. The Dhampir stared at the list and hesitated. The silence stretched into awkwardness.

“You know I was assigned here because I was a trauma surgeon for the army.”

Lexi did not reply. She was still looking at the list and building courage to tell Miller the real reason she had come. That her mind was a mess of tight ropes and that she needed help. That Quinlan could bring her back from her memories but that he could not stop her from going there in the first place. Though he tried.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Lexi shook her head and walked to the door. Then as her hand hovered over the handle, Miller spoke again.

“Are you sure?”

Lexi took a deep breath then turned around and sat back down.

 

That morning she told Quinlan that she had spoken with Dr. Miller. She expected disappointment, perhaps even irritation but it never came.

“ _Whatever it is that you need to do to get better I will support fully_.”

She smiled against his shoulder and kissed the brand again.

“ _I have been thinking about our discussion with the Mayor_ ,” he said.

“ _Yes?_ ”

“ _The stigma on my arm gave me the idea as well as what I once told you about Augustin.”_

She took his hand and put it on her head. He stroked her hair and she began purring instantly.

“ _When I said that the Sun Hunters would die with him, I now believe I had spoken too fast.”_

 

* * *

 

In New York, on the local television channel in between reports of more chaos, of famine, or disease, once a day at noon sharp, a short video ran. It was the subject of whispers, of speculation. The longer it ran and the more other news outlet picked up on its existence, the louder the whispers became until they were no longer whispers but loud questions thrown at officials or employees distributing rations. At anyone who might be in the know. People sought information and with enough digging, they would find answers as well as an invitation.

For many, it had become a ritual to gather at noon in front of the television and watch the short clip for the hundredth time. It always started with a few seconds of black screen and the thunder of a microphone brushed against clothing. Then the breathing of the man holding the camera. The quality was not the best, as if shot with a phone rather than a device meant for this express purpose.

Three silhouettes clad in black combat gear marched ahead. One was tall and its gait confident. On his right was a woman, small and nimble and the third was a man advancing with undeniable swagger. They wore hoods hiding their faces. Their weapons attracted the eye. The tallest man wielded a sword whose hilt was a human femur, the woman carried a thin blade with a silver handle and the third was armed with a rifle. They crossed a street toward the double doors of a church. Holding onto a ladder on the side of the holy building, another warrior flashed lights in their direction as if giving some kind of signal. The cameraman lifted his own flashlight and switched it on and off three times. When they reached the heavy doors and the tallest one opened them wide, there was nothing inside but intense darkness. Then artificial lights inundated the space through the windows, revealing the pale forms of numerous charging Strigoi. The parasites screeched at the intruders who did not flinch and gave no indication that they would run away.

The explosions of gunshots overtook the screams. When the ranks of the Strigoi were rendered sparse by the silver bullets, the tall man unsheathed his sword and so did the woman. Methodically, they cut through stingers and limbs.

In the back of the cathedral, a small figure climbed on the wooden cross hanging on the wall. The woman grabbed her sword like a javelin and threw it. It flew and with a loud “thunk” traversed the chest of the Strigoi, pinning it to the cross like a giant insect. She ran, dodging stingers and claws then snapped the neck of the skewered creature before freeing her sword. As she did, the man with the rifle ran out of bullets and elected to pull stingers out the throat of the creatures attacking him. Then suddenly, there was silence. The three warriors walked toward the open doors of the church. A Strigoi stirred, wounded but not dead, and was decapitated by the tall man without a glance.

The one holding the rifle closed the double doors and took a can out of his pocket. On the door, in white paint, he drew a sun. It was merely a circle with six waves surrounding it. Much like a child would depict it. Underneath it, he wrote: “Strigoi-free”. The screen turned black and two words appeared: “Join us.”

The video cut there. It lasted five minutes.

* * *

 

The Sun Hunters had been remade, and Gus would not be the last of them. This time they served humankind and not the will of the Ancients. All over New York, their sigil was synonymous with safety from Strigoi. When the noise of tires sounded at night, people rushed to their windows in the hope of witnessing their hunt. In a mere six months since the video first appeared on TV screens, the Sun Hunters had captured the minds and hearts of New Yorkers.

So many people had demanded to join that they could reject most of them. Gus, Raul, Quinlan, and Lexi were not interested in accepting those who did not have true grit, gumption, and the skill not to end up killed. They wanted the best and now they had it.

But the city acted like a sinkhole for the Strigoi. They were attracted by its large population and though islands were easy to defend, new sightings still popped up in apparently clear areas. The four team leaders gathered in the new communal room at the lowest level of what once was a black market but was now the Sun Hunter’s headquarters.

Laura and Aanya had some kind of plan and had even prepared a presentation. Lexi liked that. It felt like before. As a scientist, she had sat through a great deal of talks, including some with speakers as nervous as Aanya and Laura had been at this very moment.

 “If we place pumps here and there then block those tunnels with some cement then it can be done with minimal manpower. Effectively all of New York can become divided into sections by running water, even the parts which are not islands. The remaining Strigoi will be trapped, and we can pick them one by one. It will also prevent re-infestation,” said Laura.

Aanya stepped forward and continued.

“Now that UV lamps are being produced again it will also be possible to force them out of tunnels passively. We don’t have that many yet but,”-she pointed at the large map behind her-“if we install them here and here first we can effectively corner them inside of the unpopulated areas of the city.”

She went on with more details considering the best placement of UV lamps and maybe silver coating of key areas.

“So what do you think?” asked Laura and they both looked nervously at the four people in front of them. Particularly at the two Dhampir.

“ _Was that what they were plotting for so long?_ ” asked Quinlan.

“ _I guess so…I’m also guessing Aanya is not planning on going to med school after all._ ”

“We think you should call Costello and make this happen as soon as possible,” said Lexi.

Aanya’s shoulders visibly dropped some of their tension and Laura leaned back against the map.

“Next time you need not wait to share your insights,” said Quinlan as he stood.

“Try to smile from time to time, and people would _share_ more often,” said Gus.

“ _What a ridiculous notion_ ,” said Quinlan.

Lexi strained to hide her amusement. Gus whispered words of admiration to Aanya and Laura who both beamed at him.

“Did they get here? The new recruits?” asked Raul.

“Yeah they’re waiting for us downstairs,” said Gus.

“How many this time?” asked Quinlan.

“Ten,” said Gus.

“So three at best when Lexi and Quinlan are done with them,” said Raul with a chuckle.

Downstairs in the lobby, the four teams of Sun Hunters laughed and whispered as they judged the new arrivals. Some of the Sun Hunters wore leather collars and on the necks of those who did not, a small tattoo was clearly visible. A stylized representation of a sun with texture, as if inked over scarred skin.

Ten men and women quietly stood looking around at the racks of silver weapons and rifles. A woman with a buzz cut and brown hooded eyes approached the closest Sun Hunter. This one did not wear a collar, and she stared at his neck.

“What kind of tat is that?”

“A baptism.”

“What?”

The Sun Hunter sneered and walked away.

“You! Get back here!” barked Raul to the straying woman.

She ran back to the group of new recruits.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Eva Peters.”

“This ain’t a fucking tea salon, _Peters_ , you ain’t here to chat.”

She chewed her tongue but stopped when she spotted the Dhampir. Then her expression went from irritated to eager. The others started whispering amongst themselves.

“It’s _them.”_

“It was true then. _Not_ human.”

“Do you think they drink blood?”

“You guys better shut the fuck up ‘cause I’m sure they can hear you.”

“That’s Quinlan and Lexi,” said Gus. “They’re gonna explain to your sorry asses what you’re gonna be doing here. Pay attention.”

Both Dhampir advanced and looked at each new face. Both of them were acutely aware that a majority of those recruits would return home soon.

“Each great civilization has a caste of elite warriors…” started Quinlan.

He began slowly pacing along the row of aspiring hunters.

“Here…we will determine whether you will have the honor of fighting for humankind. Here, we will see if you have what it takes to spill white blood and rid the world of the Strigoi pestilence,” said Quinlan.

Some of them appeared worried, some remained expressionless. Eva with wide eyes drank in every word spoken by Quinlan.

“During the next month, you will learn and train every waking hour. Then you will either go home or become a Sun Hunter,” said Lexi. “The four of us will decide if you pass…if you do, you will join Quinlan, Gus’, Raul’s or my team. Marcus and Miguel right there will teach you the basics and Quinlan and I will take over from there. In this place, we live on Strigoi rhythm, and you will have to adapt quickly. You will sleep during the day and train at night.”

They explained the functioning of the facility and daily schedules.

“You have thirty days before your final test…” said Lexi.

“Try not to quit before then,” finished Quinlan.

* * *

 

Eva’s footsteps were light and quiet in the dense shadows between the pillars. Lexi focused on her sounds while Gus and Raul observed the feed of infrared cameras. Half-naked and moving at only a fraction of his speed, Quinlan tracked Eva through the concrete maze. When he caught up to her and watched her from the corner of a wall, she crouched and stopped moving and breathing. At this moment, Lexi could only hear the human’s heart so she squinted through the darkness and located her. Eva took out her gun, turned around and shot directly at Quinlan’s head. He avoided the plastic pellet. Excellent. She was _excellent_.

“ _Retreat noisily. It’s time for the last lesson,”_ said Lexi.

Quinlan rattled and the smacking of his boots echoed against the concrete pillars. Lexi removed her shoes and coat.

“You think she is ready?” asked Gus as he watched Lexi tying her hair.

“I guess she’ll tell you that when we’re done here.”

“We might get more Hunters if you stop spooking them away,” said Gus with a smirk.

“If I can scare them away, they shouldn’t be here.”

And she pounced down in the damp and cool space and ran toward the human heartbeat.

“ _The usual?_ ” asked Quinlan.

“ _Yes_.”

Eva was making her way toward the exit. Opening that door would mean succeeding and joining the Sun Hunters. Above the doorframe there was a single lightbulb shining weakly. The only light source in the entire chamber. Before Eva could reach its glow, Quinlan and Lexi circled her. They screeched as they ran around the woman, too fast for her eyes to follow despite the night-vision goggles. Lexi reminded herself of a hyena terrifying a young prey. Lexi jumped ahead and slapped the night-vision goggles off of her face. Eva remained quiet and backed away against a wall. Both Dhampir approached, and she shot in their direction, soon emptying her magazine and instantly replacing it. When this one ended up empty again and Lexi and Quinlan still circled her, Eva took out a knife and waited.

“ _I like this one_ ,” said Quinlan.

“ _Me too_.”

Despite the opaque obscurity, Eva’s eyes followed their movements with surprising accuracy and she tensed when they approached. The knife cut the darkness just a hair next to Lexi’s stinger which closed on her throat and choked her. Quinlan’s stinger closed on her arm and he twisted the weapon out her hand. She kicked and grunted then attempted to scream when sharp bones stabbed her skin. Only a small quantity of blood poured from the shallow wounds as they had aimed away from any major vessel. Eva fought harder and Lexi grinned widely. Both Dhampir let go and resumed their circling with high-pitched shrieks. Eva ran. Ducking and punching through the other assaults the Dhampir rained down on her.

“ _She can win now_ ,” said Quinlan.

“ _Let’s hope she wants to._ ”

They let her finish her course at the door and she disappeared on the other side.

Gus and Raul had taken the elevator and joined Eva in the small room. Her voice was loud in the general silence.

“They fucking bit me!”

“Yeah stuff like that happens in our...line of work,” said Gus, amused.

“Were you scared?” asked Raul.

“Only morons don’t get scared.” She spat back.

“Good. So...we have free spots on the four teams, which one do you want?” said Gus.

“What?...I passed?”

“You wouldn't be bleeding if you hadn't,” said Raul.

“Lexi's team. I wanted to get into her team.”

Lexi smiled and Quinlan grunted in disappointment. Gus laughed.

“You know she is the one who stung you in the neck, right?”

“That's nothing.”

“It's not nothing. It's the way you'll likely die,” said Raul.

“You think I didn't know that shit when I came here?”

“I don’t think you knew how it feels to be stung and how it feels to die alone and disarmed.”

“You have no idea what I know or don’t know, Raul, so fuck you.”

“Nah, that would be unprofessional.”

Lexi and Quinlan entered the room and Eva turned around with an air of reproach. Raul looked at his watch and after a last mocking glance at Eva, left the room.

“Is it true? I passed _before_ you freaking cut me?”

“From the other nine, five passed. Then in this room, those five quit. Do you understand why we do this?” said Lexi.

Eva looked grim then nodded.

“Congratulations, Sun Hunter, you've been baptized in blood,” said Quinlan.

Her jaw dropped open, and her gaze shifted between the three of them. She touched her neck and the puncture wound which had stopped bleeding.

“That’s how…the sun mark?”

“Yeah, that’s where it’ll go,” said Gus as he tossed her a medical kit and a leather collar. “ _If_ you do want it.”

“Fuck yeah,” she yelled and appeared offended that Gus might suggest otherwise.

“After your first mission…But you better apologize to Raul ‘cause he is the one who does the ink.”

She shoved the kit and the collar in her pocket and ran after Raul.

* * *

 

Lexi had not had a flashback in more than two months. And the last time Quinlan pulled her back so quickly that no one had noticed but them. One by one, the ropes had loosened and limply fallen away. It had taken almost ten months.

The hunters were making tremendous progress in huge part because of Aanya and Laura’s plans. Still, at times just like this night, the step forward felt a little too narrow. The two trucks carrying Lexi’s team drove back toward the Sun Hunter headquarters just as the ochre light came down on the empty streets. She sat against the cold metal on the uncomfortable seats as the hunters and huntresses chatted or rested quietly. Her head moved with the rhythm of the vehicle and bobbled when they drove over the canals.

“How many times have we cleared that stupid park?” asked Lexi.

Eva looked up in concentration and counted on her fingers.

“Third time.”

“There must be a problem with the canals in that neighborhood. I’ll call Costello today.”

“Yeah, also we only got sixteen,” said another hunter named Ash.

Lexi folded her arms because she could picture exactly what would happen when they got back. And it went exactly as she imagined.

Gus and Raul were in the lowest level which was now the mess hall as well as the map room. A large television screen connected to the internet was mounted on a wall and showed a list of the most recent sightings. Costello’s office updated it constantly, sometimes several times a night depending on the number of 912 calls. The Strigoi emergency line.

On another wall was a wide map. Next to the depiction of streets and neighborhoods, there was a blackboard. She started by updating the map, adding a yellow sun on the park her team had just cleared _again._ Then she turned to the blackboard. There were four sticks of chalk, white, yellow, red and blue. She took the yellow one and with pinched lips wrote “16” under the date.

“Lex! What is that? Did you forget a zero?” said Gus who had approached with Raul.

Their smiles were wide.

“We’ll catch up tomorrow,” she said with as much dignity as she could.

“Yeah I don’t think that’ll cut it,” said Raul with a pretend worried expression.

“I’m gonna show you what cuts…,” she grumbled under her breath.

The cousins burst out laughing and the three of them walked to a table where they ate and made plans for the next night’s hunt. Quinlan was still out there with his team and though she felt his presence, with the months passing by, it became rare that their emotions would spill into the Bond uncontrollably. So she was not surprised when he shared his thoughts, and they were not sharpened by sadness.

“ _We are coming back and Anthony is infected,”_ said Quinlan.

“ _I’m sorry, Quinlan. I will let the others know.”_

Lexi looked around the tables and imagined how the next words she would speak would shut down all this laughter and vanish all those smiles. Exactly like two months ago.

“Quinlan’s team will be back soon, but Tony is infected.”

Silence fell on her table then spread like a contagious disease to the nearest tables and so on until it became so quiet that only the sounds the two trucks in the distance remained.

“Did he have family?” asked Raul.

“No, it was just him,” said Lexi.

“I’ll get the doctor then,” said Raul and he trotted to the stairs.

“I’ll get the booze,” said Gus and he walked to the vault.

With better-trained people, more resources and thoroughly planned strategies, losing hunters had turned rare. There were no longer summary executions in the middle of battle with barely a thought to spare. Death could be granted after goodbyes and surrounded by familiar faces.

As soon as Quinlan’s team exited the two trucks, the men and women who had waited by the tables each raised a glass with one hand and pounded the tables with the other. Tony walked to Gus who waited with a crate which he opened. Tony was middle-aged, tall with a shaved head and thick bushy brows. There was a bandage around his thigh that smelled of fresh blood. He chose three bottles then went back to his teammates and still under the drumming of tables, gestured at five of them then at Quinlan. The Dhampir nodded.

“Go to bed, you assholes!” said Tony. “I’ll see you on the other side!”

The drumming intensified for a short moment then stopped abruptly. There was the sound of dozens of chairs on concrete then of boots. The hunters left the room though some stopped by Tony for a quick word or a handshake.

Lexi followed them because this was not the type of party where the uninvited would be tolerated. The communal room on the first floor no longer existed. It had been converted to sleeping quarters and at the end of the short corridor was the new bedroom that Lexi and Quinlan shared. It was not large but it had its own bathroom. The walls were covered with drawings of people. On most of them, Quinlan was depicted reading or tending to menial tasks because those were the only moments Lexi could draw him. Others were of Gus, Raul, Aanya, Laura, and Emma. There was even a small one of Eva in a corner. Books were neatly aligned on shelves, and some were in languages that Lexi could not yet hope to decipher.

She showered, prepared for bed and attempted to tune out the sounds from below. Lexi could picture what would soon happen and she did not want to hear it. She put on headphones with music. She did not want to hear the doctor joining them when it got too late or hear five hunters stumbling up the stairs drunk with alcohol and grief. Quinlan spoke to her just before dusk.

“ _It ended, and Costello’s people already took the body_.”

It would have to be burned carefully and in a few days, they would bury his ashes within the city. And like the previous times, all the hunters would attend as well as New Yorkers coming to pay their respects. Lexi and Quinlan would be there, with deep hoods and sunglasses protecting them from the toxic light and hiding their pale skin and pointy ears.

“ _It is late, try to sleep. I still have things to do_ ,” said Quinlan.

She tried to sleep, but she could not do so while picturing him gathering Tony’s things and putting them away in a box. She waited for him to speak again and startled when he did.

“ _Everyone is slowly getting up by now. Would you like to come down?_ ”

Lexi really did. In the mess hall, Gus cooked in the wide-open kitchen. Aanya and Laura sat at one of the empty tables and briefly saluted Lexi as she passed by them. They also looked like they had not slept at all. In a corner of the large room, close to the vault, Quinlan sat crossed-legged on the floor inside a fenced area where Angela could crawl at her heart’s desire. Emma was facing Quinlan and stared at a chessboard with intense focus. She moved a pawn then noticed Lexi approaching.

“Good evening!” she said self-importantly.

“Good evening. How are you?”

Lexi stepped above the fence.

“I dare say it is a nice evening,” said Emma.

Lexi stifled a laugh. Angela cooed softly while slobbering all over her own little fingers.

“ _Laura says that you make her daughter sound like a Jane Austen character,”_ she shared in the privacy of their minds.

“ _There is no shame in expressing oneself properly_.”

He pulled Lexi down and she hugged him tightly. Quinlan moved one of his pawns as well.

“ _It was a nice farewell_ ,” said Quinlan. “ _Anthony was a good man and will be missed_.”

Lexi looked up and though he smiled for Emma’s sake, his brow was marked with lines deeper than usual.

“ _Do you believe what he said? About meeting us on the other side?_ ” she asked.

Emma hesitated in making her next move and glanced up at Quinlan who subtly shook his head. She abandoned her current strategy and continued thinking.

“ _After my capture which led to my becoming a gladiator, I met many men who came from many lands. Most believed in Elysium and Tartarus and places in between for those not quite good or not quite evil. I was young and I had lost Ancharia and the idea of seeing her again was very appealing. But then I noticed how those beliefs varied depending on my cellmates’ country of origin and I began doubting all of their tales. Besides, how was I to know where I would end? Those places were for humans, not for creatures such as me_.”

Emma made her move and he struck back instantly by taking her rook. She grimaced and increased her focus.

“ _Do you hold such beliefs_?” he asked.

There was a surprising amount of curiosity in the look he gave her.

“ _Not for a very long time. Though my parents were Christians and I learned about Heaven and Hell.”_

_“Yes…you sometimes quote the Good Book.”_

He said the last words a little mockingly. She did not mind.

“ _I think the Master was a sort of Hell_. _He had all those people inside him, those we heard when he died. And if there were people we loved in there, under the lightless vastness, I'm glad we freed them.”_

Quinlan’s arm pulled her closer, and he rested his cheek on her head.

“ _Me too_.”

Angela crawled toward the chessboard and Emma placed her on her lap before she could ruin the game.

“ _He had garnered their souls in a twisted manner,”_ said Quinlan. “ _Perhaps, we can entertain a similar endeavor without that ugliness. Our loved ones are dead but they are not gone as long as we remember them._ ”

She liked that idea and shared a few images in the Bond. It was during one of their friendly sparring sessions. Gordo and Amir had placed bets on the outcome and cheered noisily under Raul’s disapproval. Quinlan grinned and pressed his lips against her temple.

* * *

 

The four teams closed in on Thain Forest in the Bronx. A horde of Strigoi hid amongst the trees. Several drones whizzed in the air above the trees. At Quinlan’s right, Marcus held a joystick connected to a screen on which the park appeared in shades of green. When several orange shapes peppered the screen, he held the joystick upright showed it to the Dhampir.

“Finally…” said Quinlan.

He pressed the switch of the radio in his ear and spoke into the microphone on his cheek.

“Zone C4 and B5. Do you see?”

“Copy,” said Gus and Raul.

“Copy,” said Lexi.

“Deploy,” said Quinlan.

The twenty members of his team marched, evenly spaced, rifles at the ready against their shoulders. Their faces were obscured by balaclavas and night vision goggles but Quinlan could recognize every single one of them by their scents or the subtle differences in the way they moved.

“Lexi and Raul, stay in place. Just scare them back to us if you see them,” said Quinlan. “Gus, march North. There are twelve.”

When the first Strigoi appeared between the trees, it was shot almost instantly and Quinlan counted. In the distance Gus’ team also made progress and Quinlan listened intently for the sounds of bullets meeting flesh. Five…four…three…two. The last Strigoi were running, and bright UV lights sent them back. They stopped moving and hid between trees.

“Close in, everyone. Do not fire. Maintain tight ranks.”

There was nowhere to run now.

“ _Can you hear them?_ ” asked Quinlan.

“ _Yes_.”

“ _Let’s go.”_

He gripped the hilt of his sword very tightly, breathed and ran. It took seconds to find one of the creatures and killing it was much quicker. Lexi was close by and had also killed hers.

“Status?” asked Gus through the radio.

Lexi walked between the trees with a radiant smile.

“Clear,” he said. “New York is Strigoi-free.”

 

Most tables had been pushed at the very back and music blasted from speakers a hunter had salvaged in preparation for this very day. From Staten Island to the Bronx, New York was the only city in the world completely free of Strigoi. Even Long Island was now safe. There was not enough alcohol for all the hunters and huntresses to become fully inebriated though they seemed to try their best. Ash and Eva arm-wrestled and he won though not by a large margin.

“Q!” screamed Raul above the music. “You want to try?”

He sat and put his elbow on the table then wriggled his fingers.

“Have you lost your mind?” said Lexi with a giggle.

She had had a little liquor, and her cheeks were brightly white.

“I believe it would be imprudent. I would most likely dislocate your arm. Besides, the outcome is no mystery,” said Quinlan with a smirk.

“Lexi! Make him eat his words!” said Raul and he stood and gestured at his chair with both hands.

“That’s silly,” she said, but she was already removing her coat and rolling up her sleeves.

“You will lose,” said Quinlan.

He imitated her and there were “Ooohs” running through the gathered crowd. When she sat and uncovered her sharp teeth, her team gathered behind her.

“Wait!” said Raul. “We are taking bets.”

As Quinlan shook his head and sat opposite Lexi, Raul wrote on the blackboard and hunters shouted. It was chaos. Gus climbed on a table and whistled loudly.

“This is not the behavior I expect from Sun Hunters!”

He looked around with a frown and the screams quieted down.

“You will place your bets in an orderly fashion! My team first!”

There was a wave of laughter and within a few minutes, the blackboard was divided into two columns. Most bets were placed on Quinlan. They had seen them spar often and knew that in brute strength, he prevailed. Quinlan shook his shoulders and cracked his neck.

“ _Ha! Show off!_ ” said Lexi.

They grabbed each other’s hands. The skin over their knuckled turned taut.

“Alright people, let’s do this! NOW!” said Raul.

She was strong and the metal bent slightly under both their elbows. Her face twisted with effort and he laughed at how adorable she looked. He wanted to take his time and give the hunters a show. He pushed a little further and his team clapped while hers booed.

“ _I told you you’d lose_ ,” Quinlan said.

“ _So cocky!”_

Her eyes shifted from their hands to his face. Her expression relaxed and she smiled. It was a familiar expression and a bearer of bad news for whomever was on the receiving end.

A memory shot inside the Bond. In it, she growled in pleasure, her stinger was around his neck and they moved in unison and… _Oh, Gods._ He closed his eyes, and his muscles lost their strength. The back of his hand smacked against the metal and the panel was now severely indented.

“What the fuck!” shouted Gus.

There was more clapping and shouts and general laughter. Lexi let go of him and Quinlan gave her an accusing look.

“You cheated!” he said.

“How? How did I cheat, Quinlan?”

She bit her lips to prevent herself from laughing. He would never explain _how_ and she knew it. For all intents and purposes, she had won and he bowed down gracefully.

“ _Later, when we are alone, you will pay for this, little vixen._ ”

“ _I am looking forward to it_.”

She jumped above the table and into his arms. He was tempted to drag her upstairs right this minute but they still had much to celebrate. The hunters were taking pictures, placing their own arms on the indents of the table and reenacting the scene. For some reason, he found that particularly funny.

Later, as the party still raged on, Lexi and Quinlan sat and listened to Gus telling a raunchy story, to Aanya’s dismay.

“ _In the corner by the vault, look!_ ” said Lexi excitedly.

Raul and Eva were kissing and ignoring the crowd.

“ _It’s about time_ ,” she said and nodded to herself. 

The party went on around noon, Costello arrived and was generally ignored by the rambunctious hunters.

“I’d like to speak to both of you in private,” she said.

They directed her to the vault which once closed, was almost quiet. She took a map and a stack of pictures out of her pocket.

“The house is called Greystone. It was seized from some Partnership official and belongs to the provisional government. Since it was near the farm the guy managed, the surrounding area is deserted. It’s very isolated.”

She took out a stack of pages covered with small prints. The presidential logo appeared at the top left.

“If you sign this, Greystone is yours as well as the land around it. In addition, its location will forever remain a secret of the state.”

“ _What the hell?_ ” said Lexi.

The mayor opened the contract to a passage circled in red.

“The offer comes with a supply of blood. A pint for each of you, every other day.”

So far they had relied on the donation of the Sun Hunters, but it had always been a temporary solution.

“ _Why are they giving us all this?_ ” said Lexi.

“ _She is not done speaking…_ ”

Costello appeared mildly embarrassed.

“I am afraid the blood is contingent on your accepting the offer and relocating to Greystone.”

Quinlan chuckled and took a step toward the woman who tensed.

“Were you worried we would decide to stay here once the city became safe?”

“The thought had crossed the mind of some of us. You did just spend a year clearing it up…why would you otherwise bother?”

Lexi’s chest swelled with indignation.

“We did it for them…for all of them,” she said and pointed a finger toward the people still celebrating in the next room.

“And we are thankful for that but…”

“When are the next elections coming, _Mayor?_ ” asked Quinlan with a sarcastic emphasis on the last word.

“In six months.”

“And while you no doubt will take credit for the cleaning of New York…you cannot have people terrified of walking the streets because _we_ might appear.” He sneered.

“It’s more complicated than that,” she said.

“I don’t doubt it is otherwise this offer would have been two one-way tickets out of the country…”

She looked away.

“No…we are the vicious dogs one keeps in the garden to scare away intruders, but not inside the house for fear the beasts might snap at the children.”

Lexi looked at him and her face fell when she suddenly understood the implications behind the offer. The mayor turned back to him and held his gaze.

“The U.S. government is content having you here but you might find that not all countries will be so welcoming. There are also things coming that would make your life in New York very difficult.”

“ _Goddamnit, can’t she speak straight for five minutes?_ ”

“ _She is a politician, through and through so...no._ ”

Lexi grunted and looked at the woman with contempt.

“We never planned on staying here, in this pile of concrete and metal, soulless and dirty,” said Quinlan.

“Well, you’ll take Greystone then?”

“ _I don’t want it,”_ said Lexi.

“We will take it,” said Quinlan.

The Mayor opened her mouth to speak, but Lexi raised a commanding finger.

“Quiet,” she snarled.

Costello had the good sense to obey.

“ _I am not interested in taking this. It feels…corrupt.”_

“ _I understand, but you will have to consider this with more pragmatism. I have lived relatively peacefully with humans most of my life because I had the luxury of secrecy as well as the unlimited resources of the Ancients. Today, not a single person on the planet has lived through the Fall without losing something precious to the Strigoi. We look too much like those creatures to be ignored. Some know what we are and that we helped but in the end, to most of them, we are just another pair of bloodsuckers. We need allies even if they fulfill that role somewhat reluctantly._ ”

The mayor cleared her throat and seemed to be about to say something but Lexi growled louder than ever and the woman stayed quiet.

“ _Don’t you have other means? Bank accounts? Properties?”_

“ _Yes, and I might be able to access them eventually. However, it might be wise for those humans to remain ignorant that we possess such options. Governments come and go…we will have plans to fall back to no matter what happens but at the moment accepting her offer means walking out of here safely.”_

_“You think we are in danger?”_

_“It is possible. We have no way of knowing what other plans the government had for us before settling for this one.”_

Lexi signed the contract with a raging flick of the wrist. Quinlan signed more calmly.

“You did the right thing…,” said Costello.

Lexi rolled her eyes.

“ _I really want to yank her head off._ ”

Quinlan laughed out loud and the mayor startled.

“ _Please abstain, beloved_.”

“What is supposedly coming that would make our lives difficult here?” she asked.

“Yesterday, Sanjay Desai and his wife were arrested while trying to cross the border to Mexico. Zach Goodweather turned fifteen a month ago and some people think it will make the public more likely to accept that he will be trialed as an adult. All the main players of the Partnership are in custody in the state or being transported here as we speak.”

“Humanity’s judgments will be dispensed in this city then,” said Quinlan.

“It started here so it only makes sense for it to be resolved here. The trials will attract a lot of attention, and spirits will run high.”

Lexi snorted.

“You will use the hatred humans have of the Strigoi to justify putting those people to death, won’t you? The death penalty is illegal here and has been for more than a decade.”

“The few lawyers still alive have already drafted an international chart and yes, it includes the death penalty. We aren’t talking about American laws here. They will be indicted for crimes against humanity,” said Costello.

The Mayor took a key out of her pocket and rolled the map of the property they had just been granted.

“You will need this. The house is furnished, and you can move in immediately if you wish. It’s four hours from here, but I guess you don’t really care about driving at night.”

“Not really, no.”

“I know it feels bittersweet or…just outright bitter but this is a beautiful place. I picked it myself, and I really hope you will appreciate it.”

Quinlan took the keys and the map and accepted the handshake the Mayor offered. Lexi glared and the mayor did not attempt to shake her hand.

 


	26. Greystone

 

The Dhampir had not hidden the circumstances leading to their relocation and it had perhaps been a mistake. The Sun Hunters had not taken the news well and only after strenuous negotiations did they accept not to rush the Mayor’s office.

Merely two days after the party, the Dhampir began packing their possessions. Lexi had asked that they leave quickly as she was pained by drawn-out goodbyes.

“ _Emma has been hiding from me since we announced our departure_ ,” said Quinlan.

He detached a drawing of the little girl from the wall and slid it carefully in a cardboard sleeve.

“ _And Gus is calling Costello so much I expect she will need to change her phone number_ ,” said Lexi.

“ _Their reaction is a little excessive. We are not exiles, we are free to come and go as we please_.”

“ _It’s mostly because those in charge prefer to see us go and not so much come back. It’s the ungratefulness that bothers them and that bothers me.”_

“ _It happened to me many times. I would be called upon to kill for the glory of Rome and for humans who would despise me for it. They would send me away in times of peace when I became an inconvenience then bring me back when they inevitably found themselves faced with another war.”_

_“Why did you do it? Why did you go back?”_

_“Because the Master craved the chaos of those wars. They made perfect feeding opportunities.”_

He put down the sleeve and faced the now bare wall.

“ _And because I knew little else_.”

Quinlan and Lexi turned to the bookshelves and tucked the volumes into boxes.

“ _Was that all you did during all those centuries? Chase battle after battle?_ ”

She did not pity him but she had to acknowledge how sad of an existence it sounded.

“ _Until the Western Roman Empire fell and then I was intrigued by what existed beyond it. I still sought the Master, and I still fought but at times I desired more. There was no real reason for me to go to Constantinople, but I found myself drawn by the tales of a city more beautiful than Rome._ ”

“ _Was it? More beautiful?_ ”

Quinlan chuckled.

“ _I could not tell because when I arrived, half of it was on fire_.”

“ _What? Why?_ ”

“ _They took their chariot racing very seriously in those days_.”

“ _Are you pulling my leg?_ ”

This time he laughed frankly, and it filled her with contentedness. She suspected that he blocked his negative feelings from her but always left his mind wide open in moments like this one so she could taste his happiness. His joy was a ball irradiating warmth in the pit of her stomach. Lexi dropped the books and pressed her face against his chest.

“ _It is completely true! But I came back when it was rebuilt and I had to admit that it was glorious_.”

It took a long time for them to finish packing as he distracted her with stories and images of Constantinople. He was correct, it had been glorious.

***

They were ready to depart, the truck was loaded and Raul and Eva had agreed to drive them to the city limits since the Dhampir could not do it alone. Simply because of the system of canals, living in New York would be complicated for the Dhampir but that did not alleviate Lexi’s resentment. The hunters currently staying in the headquarters had already paid their respects and had returned to their busy lives. But still, Quinlan waited by the map with his back to them. Lexi, Raul, and Eva shuffled through the pictures to give him more time. Eva looked at the images with pursed lips. Just like Lexi, she attempted to find fault in the place and just like her, she was unsuccessful.

“I guess it could be worse,” admitted Eva.

Raul glanced at a picture of the house above her shoulder.

“I prefer when my windows face south so keep that in mind when you pick a guest bedroom.”

“Don’t worry I already know where you’ll stay if you visit,” said Lexi and she showed him a picture of a decrepit garden shed.

“Meh, still bigger than my bedroom.”

“ _Let’s go,_ ” said Quinlan and strutted in their direction.

She could feel nothing through the Bond, and his face was neutral. Lexi grunted and shoved the pictures in her pocket. This would not do.

“I forgot something. I’ll be back in a minute,” she said.

She disappeared up the stairs and went straight to the highest level. Laura’s door was open, and she was crouching by the larger of the two beds.

“Come on, you’re a big girl and big girls don’t hide like this,” she said.

Laura noticed Lexi standing at the door and stood.

“You guys are leaving now?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“She won’t come out.”

Lexi crouched next to the bed and the little girl crawled farther away from the edge.

“Emma? Why are you doing this?” asked Lexi.

The child did not answer. Lexi took a picture out of her pocket and slid it on the floor then pointed out one of the windows of the depicted house.

“That’ll be your room if you visit, you know?”

A small hand grabbed the picture and there was a click and the light of a small flashlight illuminated the space under the bed.

“Really?” asked Emma.

“We picked it right away but now Quinlan thinks it was useless because you don’t want to visit.”

“No! Who said that? It’s not true,” said Emma and her face appeared from under the bed.

“Maybe you should tell him that your mom and you will come to visit soon, so he doesn’t worry?”

Emma came out and dropped her flashlight and the picture on the bed. She nervously pulled on her sleeves.

“Are you going to leave even if I don’t visit?”

“Yes,” said Lexi with a slight pinching in her heart.

“That’s not fair. The others are staying.”

“Yes, but the others are not elves. Maybe we want to go back to the forest.”

Emma folded her arms and her smug expression was very familiar.

“I know you’re not elves, Maria told me _._ ”

Lexi scratched the back of her head and exchanged a look with Laura who appeared equally amused and embarrassed.

“No, we are not elves…will you still come down with me to say goodbye?”

“Okay,” she relented.

At the ground level, Raul and Eva waited in the truck while Quinlan leaned against its side. He did not need to look up to know that three people were approaching.

“ _Thank you,_ ” he said.

* * *

 

From the moment they took an abrupt turn and left the asphalt road for a dirt one, the map indicated that they had found their new property. The forest was mainly composed of various oak species as well as hickory. Lexi cracked her window open and the car filled with the myriad of scents found in old-growth forests: the sap of century-old trees, humus and the freshness of recent rain on leaves. The canopy was turning dark green, orange and red from the arrival of Autumn.

Quinlan could not help but feel hopeful when Lexi leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. The corners of her mouth jumped up every time a new smell crossed their path. In the distance, wild turkeys gobbled and the absurdity of their calls made her giggle.

He understood her discontentment at being relegated to the wilderness like a pair of unwanted curs but he did not want that to prevent her from appreciating what they had been granted. From his experience, happiness could be born from isolation. In fact, he had found that it enabled him to live free from the pressure of suppressing his nature. But in isolation, there was also loneliness and that suffering he knew all too well. There again, he was hopeful because he had never tried to be alone with another of his kind. But would that be sufficient for her? She startled and grabbed his shoulder.

“ _What was that_?”

The strong smell of a large mammal came and went.

“ _A bear._ ”

She stuck her head out of the window as though she would be able to spot the animal. Then she fidgeted in her seat until he stopped the car.

“ _Why did you stop? Did you see something?_ ”

“ _No._ ”

He leaned to her side, kissed her and opened her door wide.

“ _The house is that way but I don’t see any reason why both of us should remain stuck in this car until we find it._ ”

Quickly, she removed her coat and her boots then disappeared amongst the trees. He closed the door and as he drove up the road, her laughs sometimes found his ears.

When he parked, she was nowhere to be seen but he could smell her and the beatings of her heart were loud. She landed lightly on the roof of the car. Her clothes were dirty with dust and sap and her hair had come undone. Lexi appeared wild.

“ _How was it?_ ”

She rattled playfully, jumped off then ran toward the house and he followed.

Greystone was aptly named. The house was square, massive and might have been too simplistic to be aesthetically pleasing if it were not for its naked stone façade partially covered in English ivy. In the back, wide window doors led to a shaded garden. The house had once been a farm with stables, but its past had left no trace in its interior. The front door led to an open floor comprised of a living room and a kitchen. The décor was modern, sleek and luxurious. In a corner, a strange object with abstract shapes caught their attention.

“ _What is this?_ ” asked Quinlan.

“ _A lamp?_ ”

She found a switch and it indeed illuminated the hideous object. Quinlan opened the nearest window and threw the thing out. His action had the double effect of making Lexi laugh and ridding the house of an insult to good taste.

On the dinner table, they found a copy of the contract they had signed and a reminder to call Costello as soon as they took possession of the grounds.

Quinlan wished Lexi had not seen it. Her run and her amusement had put her in an excellent disposition but as soon as she read the papers, her face hardened. She chewed her tongue then exited the house.

“ _I’ll get our things I guess,_ ” she said.

They had just finished carrying their few possessions inside when the phone rang. Lexi turned away from it with a huff.

“ _Perhaps we should pick it up?_ ” said Quinlan.

“ _Go ahead._ ”

He expected Costello on the line, but it was a man with a Scottish accent.

“Mister Quinlan? Ma’am Lexi? I saw a car, was it you?”

“Who is this?”

“I’m Nigel Fraser, I’m the groundskeeper.”

Quinlan did not recall that the grounds came with an employee and judging by her expression of surprise and curiosity, Lexi had not known either. She approached to listen more easily.

"Mr. Fraser, you should relocate to the city, those parts are not exactly safe.”

“Oh, that’s fine. My house is on the river!”

One side of the property was closed off by a large stream which comprised one island.

“Do you live by yourself?”

“Aye. My daughter lives in New York with my grandkids.”

“I’m guessing that would be because of the safety issue I mentioned.”

Nigel laughed so loudly that Quinlan held the phone away from his ear.

“Aye, that might be.”

“ _He cannot stay here, he will get himself killed,”_ said Lexi.

“For our peace of mind, we’d prefer if you did not live here alone.”

“I’m not so alone with my dogs. And now I’ve got neighbors! I’ve been ousted by the Partnership once, I’m not leaving again.”

“What are your duties as a groundskeeper?”

“I just accept deliveries for you and if you need something repaired or replaced, I’ll do it.”

“What about actually keeping the grounds?”

“Nah! The forest can keep itself. Besides, there are Strigoi in those parts.”

“ _He is insane_ ,” said Lexi.

“I will drive to you tomorrow and re-install the cable and the internet,” said Fraser.

“You can do that?”

“Aye, I’m old but not a relic. I’ve got an email address and all.”

“ _Ha! See. We should make you one as well_ ,” said Lexi.

“ _Shall I really emulate a man you just called ‘insane’?_ ”

She tossed a pillow at his head which he caught and threw back. He concluded the chat with the groundskeeper before convincing Lexi to go for another run.

The next day Nigel arrived bearing welcome presents in the form of tea and biscuits. He was short, with a crown of bushy grey hair, a crooked nose, and deeply wrinkled skin. Throughout his short visit, he never stopped speaking and it rather felt like they now knew his entire life story. He had emigrated from Scotland some thirty years prior to marry his late wife, had found work managing the land of the original owner and had been kicked out after the Fall. Then as soon as the Partnership had been dissolved, he had returned to his beloved island with three errand dogs he had found on his way. He enjoyed fishing, Russian literature and obviously, talking.

“I’ll come back tomorrow with your delivery!” he said as he sat behind the wheel of his armored truck.

“Please do not bother, we can come to you,” said Lexi.

“Ma’am, do you realize this is what I’m paid to do?”

“Yes.”

“Good! I wanted it to be clear. I won’t tell if you don’t. Deliveries come during sunlight hours so you can pick them up just after that. If it gets too late or if you prefer to avoid my chatting your ears off then I’ll leave it in the boathouse.”

He drove off. Quinlan was quite unsure about Nigel. He had done a very efficient job in connecting them to the internet, but he chatted too much for his liking. Lexi ate a biscuit, crumbled another and tossed it at a group of small birds. They plunged toward the food, and she observed them tenderly.

“ _Nigel is the grandpa I never knew I wanted_ ,” she said.

“ _What a thought_.”

“ _I hope he can stay safe even after we leave_.”

“ _You really do not want to remain here?_ ”

“ _It’s a prison. Gilded, but still a prison_.”

“ _When I was given land and I lived with Tasa and Sura, it was much the same. I was still happy_. _Keep in mind that staying here, even for the next fifty years means little in the scope of our lifetimes.”_

She tossed more biscuits, and the birds flew off in a flurry of feathers then came back after the Dhampir stood still for long enough.

“ _You know how hard it is to imagine this? That’s longer than I’ve been alive_.”

“ _I can imagine it, and I’m looking forward to all of it._ ”

Twilit trees were growing clearer to their eyes and the forest was alive with the sounds of multitudes of animals. She took his hand, and she stretched on the tip of her feet to kiss his cheek.

***

It was hard for Lexi to hide her pleasure at running amongst the trees and hiding as they spied white-tailed deer, squirrels or bears living their simple lives.

“ _Look at this one, she has two fawns to care for…_ ” she lamented as they observed from the highest branches of an oak tree. “ _They were born very late…they won’t make it through winter.”_

“ _With some shelter and food, they would survive_ ,” said Quinlan.

Her perception of Greystone might change if she felt needed. Even if just by a few animals.

“ _I know what you are trying to do_ ,” she said reproachfully.

The next day, she began building a wooden hut in the garage which had once been the barn. Without a comment about its future use, Quinlan assisted her efforts.

***

The wide television screen showed a delighted Gus and above it, a small camera was pointed at the two Dhampir.

“We went to Central Park and I know it sounds corny and shit but I thought it would be the right spot. On that cute bridge there. That was a stupid idea, I almost dropped the ring in the water and she was laughing so hard it took five minutes for her to say yes.”

“Congratulations, to both of you,” said Quinlan.

Lexi mumbled unintelligible words and fanned her face with her hand while trying to stop herself from crying.

“Hey Lex, you okay there?” asked Gus.

She turned away from the camera and took deep breaths.

“ _Tell him that I’m very happy for them…I need to find a tissue_.”

She ran out of the room.

“She is very happy but...”

“She’s a secret softie, I know.”

“ _I heard that!_ ” said Lexi and from somewhere in the house, she blew her nose.

“ _I’m going to call Aanya_ ,” she added.

“How are the new teams?” asked Quinlan.

“I told those dicks to send their best but so far I think only Chicago did it. I got one that wouldn’t have made the first cut if I had a say.”

“We will start with the Chicago team then and the rest of them can go home.”

“Done. The dates for your training sessions are good?”

Quinlan pulled a sheet of paper from the printer and read the list.

“Wouldn’t that be a little fast-paced?” said Quinlan.

“That’s what I told them! They wanted to break our teams up and sent them to the affected cities with _trainees_. I told them to fuck themselves and I ain’t sending good people to get killed ‘cause some pencil pusher thought they knew better. They can’t force our hunters to go anywhere but they don’t want to budge on the schedule.”

“They will get a surprise when only a fifth of them return with a sun on their necks.”

“Yeah, that’s a generous estimate Q.”

“The dates fit us. We are not particularly busy.”

Angela appeared on the screen, wobbling mindlessly.

“Hello, Angela,” said Quinlan.

She screamed and ran at the camera. Suddenly, the screen only showed the ceiling of Gus’ living room. After a few seconds of struggle, Gus reappeared with the infant under his arm.

“See you in two weeks,” he said then cut off the stream.

Upstairs, Lexi was speaking with Aanya who interrupted the call.

“Wait...Where is Angela? She ran away again. I’ll call you back,” said Aanya and she hung up.

Lexi returned to the living room with a little skip in her step.

“ _Can you get the deliveries yourself today? Aanya will call back when she manages to find her daughter._ ”

“ _I’ll wait until dark or Mr. Fraser might be tempted to detain me for tea. He refuses to accept that I am not partial to the beverage._ ”

They expected materials to build UV light fencing around the house. The light would be triggered by anything approaching and would only prevent Strigoi from passing through, not animals. In addition, with a simple switch, it could be deactivated. Though their guests would be safe enough with two Dhampir repelling possible Strigoi roaming the woods, they did not want to take chances.

“Might be because of your accent,” she said out loud then poured herself a cup of tea.

“Yes, and your accepting every biscuit or tea tin he offers has certainly nothing to do with this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She took a sip and playfully avoided his gaze. Her eyelids were still slightly swollen and the tip of her nose whiter than usual.

“ _I had not realized how much you enjoyed weddings._ ”

“ _Oh no, I don’t. I just like seeing them happy. They deserve it so much._ ”

She put down her cup and blushed.

“ _Were you asking for a more personal reason?_ ”

“ _No. I don’t need a ceremony, a ring or a piece of paper to prove that we belong together._ ”

Quinlan held a hand out to her and she slid her fingers within his grasp. Very few times in his life had he felt so lucky and so certain that he was exactly where he ought to be.

***

Every few days Quinlan and Lexi returned to New York, trained aspiring hunters for eight hours then went back to Greystone. Every time, they arrived at the city border and policemen would drive them to the Sun Hunter headquarters. Those same men would park by the building and wait for the Dhampir to finish their work.

“ _One day I’m going to eat one of them_ ,” said Lexi when the driver complained of their lateness. They had taken one hour longer than usual to visit Laura and Emma. The child had just started school and had been particularly excited to share stories on the subject.

Though they could watch the news on the internet or on television, Nigel still insisted on including a newspaper with their blood deliveries. Quinlan cared little for human affairs but Lexi followed them with keen interest.

“ _Oh my god…_ ,” said Lexi as she read the front page of the latest paper.

New York was tense and general unrest came in the form of demonstrations, mild vandalism and a slight rise in crimes. Since the trials of smaller Partnership officials had started, this had become the norm. But this article was different.

Three former lower-ranking collaborators had been lynched and ended in the hospital with horrific injuries. Their noses had been cut off, their ears maimed to appear pointed, their teeth broken into sharp nubs and their heads shaven. The article had not expanded more than that but considering the pattern of injury, Quinlan suspected that they extended further than what was immediately visible on a dressed person.

Lexi spent the next few hours on the phone because they both agreed that there would be more to this than what the media would let on. According to Gus, the people responsible were not actively searched by the NYPD. The Sun Hunters were also called upon several times a week because hysteria made New Yorkers imagine Strigoi bumping in the night. The most important trials were set to begin soon and Gus had already been interviewed by the prosecution.

Surely enough, the newspapers announced them three days later. Thirty-four people were being indicted with either or both conspiracy to commit crimes against humanity or crimes against humanity. Two of them would be tried _in_ _absentia_ as they were still on the run or possibly dead. Most of the accused were men and women who had once been employees of the Stoneheart group. The youngest by far was Zach Goodweather and the most hated was Sanjay Desai for his killing of newborns and his participation in the creation of the bleeding lines systems. The trials were set to be televised live all over the world.

When the time came, Lexi insisted on watching though Quinlan would have preferred taking a leisurely stroll through the forest. Those were human matters but he respected that until very recently, Lexi had been human as well.

The courtroom was large with wooden benches and marble floors. Five judges presided over the court and the accused sat in a box on one side while groups of lawyers sat at tables covered with piles of documentation. All of them wore earpieces and when the people spoke in another language than English, a voice also translated for the viewers. There were introductory speeches then a prosecutor called Zach to the stand.

A large television was rolled in the room and a series of pictures appeared. Zach stood on the terrace of the Belvedere Castle and spoke to the Master. The same prosecutor introduced the evidence to the judges.

“ _Those are the pictures Gus took when we followed Eichhorst,_ ” said Quinlan.

“Is this you on this picture?” asked the Prosecutor.

He had thick black hair, and black eyes as well as olive skin. The camera zoomed on his face and his name appeared at the bottom of the screen: U.S. Prosecution, David Alvi.

“Yes,” said Zach.

His head was shaven and he appeared too thin, probably because of a recent growth spurt.

“Who is this other person?”

“The Master.”

“Can you explain in clear and concise terms who the Master is?”

“The Master…he was the chief, he was in control of everything. He controlled every single Strigoi, in their heads, at all times…And he did the same to me! He was in my head and made me do everything!”

The prosecutor’s eyes went wide and his colleagues instantly jumped out of their chairs to whisper to each other. The witnesses previously sitting calmly exploded in screams of outrage. There was chaos and the judges ordered an immediate recess. The accused were quickly removed and led to a back room.

“ _He is lying and will get away with it because so little is known of the Master_ ,” said Quinlan.

Lexi paced between the couch and the television screen. She barely contained her rage.

“ _We cannot let that happen_.”

“ _What do you propose we do?_ ”

“ _We have to tell them everything we know._ ”

Quinlan switched off the television and considered the question carefully. So far few people knew with complete certainty of their existence though rumors abounded. By speaking publically during the Manhattan trials they would be completely exposed.

“ _We cannot draw the ire of the world on ourselves._ ”

“ _We have a duty to the truth. So far very few members of the Partnership were found innocent and those were low ranking ones. Just because of that New York is sliding back into mayhem. You saw how they reacted to what Zach said. If they walk free because of those lies there will be even more violence.”_

 “ _We’ve already helped them quite enough_.”

“ _In your long life were there no moments when you thought that you had to intervene so you would not regret it a century later?_ ”

Quinlan had seldom thought that far ahead since his mission if successful would have lead to his death.

“ _It might turn dangerous for us. Secrecy ensures safety._ ”

“ _Then we’ll run. But I don’t think we risk much as long as the Sun Hunters are close. Do you?_ ”

“ _Mobs have a unique power that I would rather not be subjected to._ _I understand your concerns and I commiserate but the wisest course of action is to let humans deal with this._ ”

“ _When Angela and Emma are old enough to understand what is happening here, I would not be able to look them in the eye and tell them we did not speak up because of fear. I would be too ashamed of myself._ ”

Quinlan pictured Emma, grown, with a marked brow and lines around her eyes. Could he bear to see her disappointment? He could even hear her say the words and in his mind, her voice was similar to her mother's. “ _Such a powerful creature, afraid of being seen and heard”._ Then he realized that the expression of disappointment he had imagined on Emma was the same Lexi was showing him right now. Pensively, he traced his bottom lip with his thumb.

“ _If they turn on us and we have to burn New York to escape, I shall remind you of it for five centuries._ ”

Lexi picked up the phone and pressed the speed dial, the number three for Gus.

***

When they arrived at the city limits that very same day, Gus was not yet there and the border agent would not open the gate.

“ _So much for being free to come and go,”_ said Lexi.

“ _I shall climb above this fence and show him the cost of refusing us entry,_ ” said Quinlan as he stared down the man.

He made a point of rattling loudly and letting his third eyelid close visibly. The agent clutched his rifle closer to his chest and locked himself inside the shelter.

“ _Well, that did not help, Quinlan_.”

Lexi kicked a rock and paced.

“ _No, but I do feel better about it._ ”

Gus arrived mere seconds later and got out of his SUV. When he spotted the two Dhampir on the other side of the tall fence and the man observing meekly through the windows, he pinched the base of his nose and took a deep breath.

“Get out of here, man!” he said and knocked on the door.

The agent opened instantly, only too happy to deal with a fellow human.

“Sir, it’s forbidden to exit the city at this time.”

He spotted the tattoo on Gus’s neck, looked at his face more attentively and sputtered an apology.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. Just let them in, I need them.”

“But, they are not due for another three days and Costello said…”

“Tell Costello I gave you the order. If she has a problem, she can come to me, alright?”

The agent shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Come on, just trying to do my job here. And those two are our best hunters after all.”

Still reluctant, the agent pressed a button next to the door. UV lights switched on around the gate and it slid open. Quinlan and Lexi ran past the light and waited by the SUV.

“Thanks, man. You’re cool.”

Gus took a step away when the agent called him back.

“Wait! My wife is a big fan and if I don’t take a picture she won’t believe me.”

The agent took his phone out of his pocket.

“Do you mind?”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

As the man lifted the phone above both of them and took a picture, Gus grinned stiffly. Quinlan snorted and exchanged a look with Lexi. Gus hurried back to the SUV and they all boarded it.

“Does that happen often?” asked Lexi.

Gus did not look at her, started the engine and drove away.

“Not really.”

“ _He is lying,_ ” said Quinlan.

“ _I think he is trying to spare our feelings._ ”

“ _I do hope he does not think us so petty as to feel slighted by his personal success._ ”

In the distance, dancing lights of flames illuminated the night sky and the sirens of fire trucks came and went.

“This shit has been going on all day. There is a curfew at the moment. Only emergency services and hunters are allowed outside. If those fuckers are declared innocent…I don’t even know.”

Two blocks from the courthouse, Gus parked in front of a mostly empty building. Only one floor was illuminated and there were few heartbeats inside but their voices carried far. Those were the voices of people facing a major crisis.

“Are all the prosecutors there?” asked Lexi.

“Yup, all five of them. I already told them we were coming,” said Gus.

They rode the elevator and arrived in a long corridor in which the voices rang clear and angry.

“Of course the kid lied! He wants to save his skin,”

“That’s all and well but frankly, we have no idea.”

“Those people who gave us the pics, don’t they know whether that’s the case? Whether the Master could do that?”

“The only humans who met the Master in person and lived are Goodweather and Desai. All other testimony would be hearsay.”

“ _See, they have no idea what to do_ ,” said Lexi.

They reached the large room, which was luxuriously furnished but at the moment filled with boxes and with large tables on which rested precarious piles of documents. David Alvi smoked by the cracked window and the others were sprawled on the armchairs and couches. They all seemed defeated but stood when Gus stepped in.

“Elizalde, where are the supposed crucial witnesses you promised?” asked the woman.

She spoke with a French accent and her tone suggested that she did not believe Gus would be of any help.

“Chill, Durand. They’re here but they’re just the kind of people that need an introduction. Any of you have guns?”

There was heavy silence.

“We’re attorneys, not cowboys,” said another woman.

She was also clearly not American.

“Good. You guys saw the video we used the recruit Sun Hunters in New York?”

“Yes,” said Alvi.

“Well, I was the guy with the rifle and the two others are the witnesses I told you about,” said Gus.

“If they are so important why didn’t you bring them sooner?” said Durand.

“Because they are not human.”

“Is this a fucking joke?” said a man with a Japanese accent.

“Do I look like I’m fucking joking?”

“I heard rumors,” said Alvi. “But those are just modern myths.”

“There are no myths, Esquire, only exaggerations,” said Quinlan from the corridor.

No matter the time, no matter how enlightened the civilization, those who benefited from the highest education were always the quickest to dismiss the unexplained as myths.

Quinlan and Lexi stepped inside the vast room, toward the only place free of boxes. They did not wear their hoods or their glasses but their swords were visible and obvious.

“Oh merde!” said Durand.

With shaky hands, she took a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it.

“To answer the question you were pondering before we rudely interrupted: no, the Master could not control humans in this manner,” said Lexi.

“Who are you?” asked Alvi.

“I am Quinlan and this is Lexi.” - Alvi opened his mouth to speak - “No, we are _not_ Strigoi.”

Alvi closed his mouth and remained quiet. Quinlan dragged two chairs closer and the Dhampirs shed their coats and sat down. This would take a long time.

“Imma head out. Call me when you need a ride,” said Gus.

He winked at the prosecutors who seemed panicked that the hunter was leaving them alone with those creatures. Quinlan looked at the group of men and women. The U.S. prosecutor, David Alvi was still smocking by the window and the only one not terrified of meeting his gaze. On the armchair, the Egyptian prosecutor, Mohammed Issa had not moved a hair since they had walked in the room. Imogène Durand, the French Prosecutor was still shaking while holding onto a cigarette whose ash fell on the carpet without her noticing. Masashi Takaha sat opposite Durand and eyed the exit. Ana Uru, the prosecutor from New Zealand, held a chair in front of her as though ready to throw it at any approaching danger.

Lexi sniffed the air, looked above her shoulder then trotted across the room to a table covered with various snacks. She selected a cup of coffee as well as a bagel then came back. The five prosecutors had followed each of her gestures and their mouths fell open when she took a sip of the coffee. Uru let go of the chair and Issa dared move a little.

“ _Where shall we start?_ ” asked Lexi.

“ _With the beginning._ ”

“ _The plane?_ ”

“ _No. This all started centuries ago._ ”

“ _Oh boy. I hope they have more coffee._ ”

 ***

Eight hours later, a rough timeline of the events leading to the Fall was drawn in sharpie on one of the large walls. Another wall represented keys points between the Fall and the death of the Master. Lexi had made the mistake of lying down on a couch and had fallen asleep. Quinlan stood facing both walls, stroking his ivory pendant as he often did to focus. Issa was on the phone and Quinlan’s Arabic was too rusty to understand more than a few words here and there. When the man hung up, he instantly scribbled on a post-it then stuck it on the timeline. It was a set of coordinates with the words “Death of the 6th” written in capitals letters.

“You were right. There was an explosion in a completely deserted area on the banks of the Nile. They are already sending me documentation via email and the rest will soon arrive by postal services,” he said.

“The Master was logical in disposing of the other five Ancients but he demonstrated his paranoia in killing even the imprisoned one.”

On the floor, the other prosecutors combed through piles of documents and DVDs. Alvi got up with a grunt and pinned a sheet of paper to the wall under the date of the Master’s death. It was a certificate describing one of the pieces of video evidence.

“This recording cuts a little too early to be useful on its own, you know,” said Alvi.

“I am aware,” said Quinlan.

“You will have to actually speak at the trial.”

“We knew this would happen.”

Alvi rubbed his face then took out a packet of cigarettes, tucked one between his lips and lit it up.

“People are gonna freak.”

“Yes, we also considered that possibility.”

“Why the fuck would you do this then?”

He blew smoke, and the stench burned Quinlan’s nostrils.

“For our peace of mind.”

Quinlan was weary and his patience thin. When the prosecutor approached him, Quinlan was suddenly excessively irritated by the smoke. With a gesture almost too quick for the human to see, he grabbed the cigarette, put it off on the wall then crumpled it and tossed it away. Alvi stared at his now empty hand then at Quinlan.

“Yeah if you want to testify you’re gonna have to stop doing that.”

“Put out cigarettes?”

“Look at people like you’re about to tear their heads off.”

“Any other advice, Mister Alvi?”

“A laundry list of them but it can wait.”

Quinlan pocketed the pendant and turned to the couch on which Lexi was curled up, deeply asleep. The sun had risen hours ago and perhaps it was time for them to take their leave for a short rest. She was very peaceful and when he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, she smiled softly. Maybe he could let her sleep just a while longer.

“Hey what’s the time?” asked Takaha.

They all looked at their phones or wristwatches then as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do, dropped their work and rushed to the windows. Quinlan kissed Lexi’s head then followed the prosecutors to understand their curious behavior. Outside, children gathered in front of a school as it opened. Their laughter, screams, and chatter traveled to them, despite the general cacophony of the morning commuters.

“Ha! This one is not even with a parent!” pointed out Durand.

A young boy of about ten years old ran down the street as the bell rang and the horde of children rushed inside the building. They looked with fascination until the last child disappeared inside. Alvi had not budged and still studied the timelines while holding an unlit cigarette.

“They do that every morning when schools open. In their countries, they are still closed for the most part. And children certainly do not go out by themselves,” he said to Quinlan.

“Even with canals and UV lamps, Paris is dangerous except for a few hours a day. People don’t even dare go down to their own basements,” said Durand.

“Before I got here, I thought Americans were exaggerating the state of the city,” said Uru.

“Yeah, but I read the mortality stats from their clearing teams and I don’t understand why they need to lie about them. They achieved a lot, and it’s pointless to hide the death of those who made it happen,” said Durand.

“They did not lie. Our hunters simply benefitted from my and Lexi’s training,” said Quinlan.

“Why hasn’t the US government shared that expertise? It’s fucking irresponsible,” said Uru.

They were suddenly discussing the issue so loudly that Lexi’s head appeared above the back of the couch. She squinted at them then when her look did not stop their discussion she went to pour herself another coffee.

“ _I’m sorry I fell asleep_.”

“ _The night has been long, I do not blame you._ ”

The passion of their chatting had somehow increased, and Quinlan crossed his arms above his chest.

“Your petty human squabbles are tiresome,” he said.

They quieted long enough for them to hear someone approaching in the corridor. The doors opened and Costello appeared.

“Today was not on the agreed dates and you terrorized one of my employees!”

She turned to Lexi for an explanation as she stood the closest to her. Lexi shrugged, took a sip and walked away.

Shocked, Costello followed her, obviously ready for additional remonstrances.

“What is going on here?” she asked.

“I am not an expert of the judicial process but I do not think it concerns you,” said Quinlan.

Costello looked around and read the timelines on the walls.

“You should have informed me before your arrival,” she said, somewhat mollified.

“The border agent informed you, didn’t he? We did not want to call, and you take you away from dealing with the unrest of last night,” said Lexi.

“ _Before_ your arrival! That was the agreement!”

“What agreement?” asked Alvi.

Costello’s cheeks turned pink.

“Basically that the government will keep us fed and housed if we leave the city and go live in the middle of nowhere,” said Lexi.

“You should not...,” started Costello.

“Wait a minute…they helped clear New York, didn’t they?” said Alvi.

“It’s not a matter I am at liberty to discuss,” said Costello.

“So that means yes,” said Takaha.

“They scare the shit out of me but did they do anything that might hint they are dangerous?” asked Durand.

“I cannot speak of it,” said Costello.

“They came here of their own volition! They didn’t have to testify! That makes them trustworthy to me,” said Issa.

“And you thanked them by kicking them out then throwing a fit because they did not respect your petty rules?” said Uru.

“ _Le Monde_ just started printing again, and I’m sure they’d love to hear of that story,” said Durand.

Quinlan almost pitied Costello.

“No one is throwing a fit. I was reminding them of an agreement that concerns none of you. As for what is happening here I know it is not my place to intervene but I will have to inform the president and…”

“And he cannot do anything about it either,” said Alvi.

“That would be obstruction,” said Takaha.

“And our respective government _would_ throw a fit,” said Durand.

“Goddammit, no one is going to obstruct anything. You two can stay within the city as long as the prosecutors need you but a policeman will keep an eye on you and in the future, you _will_ inform me of your visits in advance.”

“Sure,” said Lexi and she plopped on the couch.

“Of course,” said Quinlan with a polite nod.

“And for your information,” she said to the prosecutors. “I’m the one who will deal with the mess if any of the thirty-four is acquitted so don’t assume I would do anything to get in your way.”

She stormed out, and the five men and women instantly started arguing again about the rights of people who were neither citizens nor humans.


	27. The Manhattan Trials

 

It had been three months since Quinlan and Lexi had shared their knowledge with the prosecution. Not a single day had passed without David Alvi mulling over every word spoken by the two creatures. The best way to win a case was to be better informed than the other side. Alvi had no doubt that they were better informed than the defense or anyone else really. There were some things he wished he had never known.

He lit a cigarette, all attempts at pacing himself forgotten even though every single death stick cost a small fortune. Up to a gram of silver. In their new office, the prosecutors finished gathering all the pieces of evidence to be presented to the court on that day. The list of everything they had filed filled a small book and now, they were reaching the last few pages. Those pages cataloged countless videos of camps, of medical centers, of bleeding lines and the dirty cages which had contained the humans meant for slaughter.

Every time another hearing had taken place, every two weeks or so, the prosecution entered the courtroom with trolleys full of documents that they presented in excruciating detail. They described horrors so vile that it was not uncommon for people to burst out crying or storm out to vomit.

Alvi’s suit hung off his frame, though at the beginning of the proceedings it had been a perfect fit. He had thought his time during the Partnership era difficult. Hiding away with a fake ID, pretending he had been a cab driver all his life, then giving away so much blood, he would pass out from standing up at least once a day. It dawned on him that he had had it easy. He had avoided the camps, the Librarian had found him before he could disappear like the others, and he had not been a woman with a desirable blood type.

Then, after the Master’s death, he had been in New York, which had quickly turned from the pit of Hell to the safest city in the world. It was still free of Strigoi, but for Alvi and the other four prosecutors, that didn’t mean it was safe. Though, it was probably more dangerous for the defense lawyers and the accused. But not by much. Many in the city wished to hurt them. When Quinlan and Lexi had left them to deal with the trove of information, they had bestowed upon them, the five prosecutors had come up with a strategy they knew would be successful but risky.

They had paid the cost for that strategy and were still paying it. In a few hours, they would know whether it had been worth it. What would unfold during today’s hearing would reveal it. The entire world held its breath. But not Alvi who sucked greedily on a cigarette.

“They are here, it’s time to go,” said Durand.

She adjusted her jacket to hide the bandages on her arm. A brick had left a nasty gash and a wide bruise just two weeks ago. The prosecutors left the windowless room, which served as their new office, then joined the several dozen men and women in the lobby. Some were police but most were Sun Hunters.

The orange light was not yet on the city, but it was prudent for them to arrive at the courthouse before dawn.

“Are they already there, Raul?” asked Alvi.

“Yup, they got there during the night.”

“Are they…ready?”

Raul glanced at his hunters who surrounded the prosecutors. Five hunters took their trolleys, and they exchanged greetings and words of encouragement.

“They’re fine. You?”

“We miss having windows.”

Raul squeezed Alvi’s shoulder, and his expression was obviously meant to be encouraging. They got into the black SUVs whose doors sported the Sun Hunter’s sigil and drove to the courthouse. The majestic building was defaced by graffiti and the impacts of various projectiles. Protesters had not yet arrived because few still dared brave the cover of night.

****

The prosecution described how the breeding centers functioned at their peak efficiency. Sanjay Desai had admitted to everything including the last heinous act which had sprung whispers of disgust in the room. Then Desai’s counsel had taken over and repeated the same line of questioning as they had before. The same argument, over and over again.

 “Mister Desai, who gave you the order to schedule the delivery of these babies two months before their due dates?” asked Desai’s lawyer.

“Thomas Eichhorst told me to do it,” said Desai.

He was not as well-groomed as he had been in the pictures and videos presented. His suit was not bespoke, and the fabric looked cheap.

“Why did you do it?”

“Because the Master was in the back of my head, taking over when I hesitated or when I thought to myself that I would not do it anymore.”

“How did it feel?”

“It was a nightmare. I did not want to hurt anyone. In the end, I wanted to die for it to stop.”

Then for good measure, he broke into messy tears. His lawyer gave him time to recover then told the judge that he did not need to ask him anything else.

“Would the prosecution like to continue?” asked one of the judges.

The five remained seated, looked at each other, then Takaha stood and said,

“Mr. Desai, why is it that only a handful of humans could be controlled by the Master and not say...all of us?”

“It took too much mental effort. Strigoi were like an extension of him but we were separate. With our own minds.”

“That seems like a sensible explanation,” said Takaha.

“Well…huh? Alright,” said Desai, utterly confused.

The defense lawyers gawked at the prosecutor and even the judges could not hide their astonishment.

“We do not have more questions, thank you,” said Takaha.

The judges looked at one another, whispered then one stood and declared loudly.

“Thirty-minute recess. Prosecutors, counsels, in my office.”

He stormed through a door in the back and the other judges followed with more composure. David craved another cigarette. He always did during those hearings and right now in particular. They followed the judges and as soon as the door closed behind them, the American judge, Reginald Smith, began speaking in his loud and intimidating voice,

“Why are you five not doing your jobs?”

The prosecutors exchanged looks. Judge Smith had put into simple words what the entire world thought about them. The defense lawyers stood apart from them with deadpan expressions.

“Are you blithe or just incompetent? If you think that you can just phone this in and we will still find them guilty, you are wrong!”

“I assure you, we have a plan,” said Takaha.

“You plan on making us look like fools? We don’t want to go down in history as the judges who presided over a masquerade of a trial. If you do not pull yourself up and actually _prosecute,_ we will acquit them. We won’t send people who were robbed of their agency to their deaths and so far they all agree this is what happened. Your own witnesses corroborate that the Master could control Strigoi and that he used some ability to freeze all the people in the plane. The defense has enough for reasonable doubt.”

Alvi had expected something of the sort to happen. In their respective countries, citizens petitioned to have them replaced, and theories of possible corruption were constantly discussed on television. Some were certain that it showed how little the trial actually mattered and that in the end, the accused would be found guilty and executed. If no new piece of evidence came uncovered, the proceedings would soon end and the judges would give their verdicts and humankind would take a collective breath to either scream in outrage or sigh in relief.

“When we’re done today, they won’t,” said Alvi.

The defense lawyers squinted at them with suspicion. The judges appeared intrigued but still indignant. Both teams were dismissed curtly, and the recess ended. Alvi took a deep breath because it was time for the moment of truth. Quite literally. He called on Zach Goodweather to speak.

“In your knowledge, after the plane arrived in New York, how many times did the Master change bodies?” asked Alvi.

“Twice…no…three times.”

Zach gave an apologetic smile to excuse his hesitancy. Alvi could not help but think it was an act to make himself appear stupider and younger.

“Is it true he inhabited the singer known as Bolivar?”

“Yeah.”

“When did he leave that body?”

“I don’t remember exactly.”

There again, the vacuous grin.

“Can you give an approximation?” asked Alvi.

“Maybe a month after the plane?”

“I’d like to submit another piece of evidence. A note from Councilwoman Ferraro describing the event of the 12th of March 2014.”

Alvi read the note on which Ferraro explained how for about a day, the Strigoi had turned stupid and easier to kill.

“Were the events described, and the change of body connected?”

“When he was naked, just the worm, he could not control the Strigoi anymore.”

“Did that apply to all Strigoi?”

“I think so.”

“Even Thomas Eichhorst?”

“It was not the same. He still had a brain and could think alone but in the end, he was always loyal even if he could not hear the Master.”

Alvi did not like that choice of word. _Loyal._ From what he had learned, the infected humans had had little choice in their worship of the Master.

“Was your mother the same?”

Zach shifted uncomfortably in his seat and after looking at his lawyers said,

“Yes.”

“During that time, his ability to control others was completely gone, was it?”

Zach’s eyes appeared panicked and he stared once more at his counsel.

“You will answer the question, young man,” said Judge Smith.

“I think so, I’m not sure.”

“We will submit now another recording dated on the 21st of March, the day of the Fall.”

In the first frame there was a high view of a luxurious office with a desk in a corner and at one end, the double doors of an elevator. A stone mural covered the wall facing the desk. A man sat there, alone in the middle of a mess as if the room had been the scene of a war battle.

“Where is this?” asked Alvi.

“It’s Palmer’s office. In the penthouse,” said Zach between clenched teeth.

The video continued with the elevator opening, two people entering and a fight breaking out. Soon, Ephraim Goodweather stood by the corpse of a Strigoi then ran at Zach who held a small object in his hand. Alvi paused the video once more.

“Who is on the floor?” he asked.

“My mother.”

“And the other person?”

“My father.”

“And it is you in that footage?”

“Yes.”

“What are you holding?”

“The detonator, for the bomb.”

“Did you press it?”

Zach appeared angry now. And Alvi was certain he had been hiding this rage throughout the entirety of the trial.

“Yes,” said Zach.

“Thank you. I have no additional questions.”

Alvi sat down. A defense lawyer instantly stood and asked the same thing again.

“Why did you press it?”

“The Master made me do it,” said Zach almost automatically.

“Very well. I also do not have additional questions for Mister Goodweather.”

“We would like to call Augustin Elizalde as an expert witness,” said David once Zach rejoined the accused.

Alvi’s heart was bouncing on his plexus. It was time. Gus wore a simple black suit, and his hair was elegantly combed to one side. On his lapel, a small silver pin shaped like a sun mirrored the tattoo on his neck.

“Mister Elizalde, how long have you been engaged in the conflict against the Strigoi?”

“Since before the Fall.”

“You led the assault which resulted in the Master’s death.”

“I was not alone, but yeah I guess.”

“Since then you became the head of the Sun Hunters with your cousin, Raul Elizalde.”

“Yeah.”

“I believe we all know and trust Mister Elizalde’s expertise,” said Judge Smith, “Get to the point.”

“We would like to show the recruitment video which ran for a time in the local television. Trust me, your Honor, it is important that we do.”

“Very well. Proceed.”

The video started and when the three hunters finished killing every single Strigoi, David paused the video.

“Who is the man holding the rifle?”

“The handsome one? That’s me.”

There were a few laughs in the room and Gus winked at the nearest camera. Alvi looked to his right, then his left. Durand bit on a pencil as if smoking a cigarette and Issa plotted a handkerchief to his brow covered with sweat.

“Who are the other two people on that footage?”

“The big one is Quinlan and the tiny one is Lexi.”

As though reading his thoughts and finally understanding what he was about to ask, the room came alive with whispers.

“Silence!” ordered Smith.

He was irritated by the lack of discipline in the courtroom but at least he had stopped glaring at the prosecutors.

“What role did they play in the Sun Hunter organization?”

“You said earlier that I was at the head of the Sun Hunters with my couz. It’s true but so are those two, that’s why we worked with four teams,” said Gus.

“We would like to introduce another piece of evidence. The video in question was discovered by the authorities shortly after the Master’s death. It was in the memory of a cell phone abandoned in the bedroom of Zach Goodweather in the Belvedere Castle.”

Zach froze and turned pale. The footage started with Zach filming himself saying,

“The Born just arrived. What a moron.”

Then he flipped the camera toward a window and peered down. On the stone terrace, Quinlan kneeled at the feet of the Master. Seconds later Lexi arrived and Zach commented that she would soon become dinner. In the courtroom, Zach reddened and was increasingly agitated.

Fighting started and soon both warriors were visible and facing the Master. There were gasps and more whispering in the room. Some had taken notice that the weapons they held were very familiar. The defense lawyers’ expressions were controlled but strained.

“Who are the two people armed with swords,” asked Alvi.

“Same as before, Quinlan and Lexi,” said Gus.

“Can you explain their appearance?”

“They ain’t human.”

David expected more whispers and perhaps even some shouting. There was just expectant silence.

“What are they?”

“Dhampir. They really don’t like it when people call them Strigoi.”

“What are Dhampir?”

 “Something between a Strig and a human. Another species but almost extinct.”

“In your expert opinion, would you have defeated the Master without them?”

Gus leaned forward and with a serious expression said,

“I would have gotten my head yanked off.”

“And in your expert opinion, what would be the state of New York without their assistance?”

“It would be Strigoi central, and I’d be long dead.”

“Do you trust them to give a thorough and truthful testimony here?”

“I do.”

The defense lawyers scrambled to sift through documentation.

“If your Honor will allow it, we would like to call the Sun Hunters, Quinlan and Lexi as witnesses,” said Alvi

“Your Honor! We received no notice concerning those witnesses and are not prepared,” said a defense lawyer after jumping to his feet.

“Please sit down. You will have all the time you need to prepare before the next hearing,” said Smith. He looked at Zach who was sweating and shaking in his seat. The other accused were barely masking their own anxieties.

“It looks like you’re going to need it,” added the judge.

* * *

 

Outside the courtroom, in an isolated corner, Lexi and Quinlan waited for Alvi to call on them. She wore a dark blouse and dress pants and he a three-piece suit whose jacket and tie he had refused to put on. To the prosecutors’ dismay since they had selected what clothing, they would be wearing during the hearing. His reasoning had been simple.

“I will not dress like the German lapdog.”

The lawyers had not insisted further. The voices were loud enough for the Dhampir to follow what was being said in the courtroom.

“ _The die is cast,”_ Quinlan said when Gus revealed their identities.

It was done. People all around the world were aware of their existence. There was no point regretting it now, it was too late. All they could do was finish what they had started. But she could not repress her guilt. She had insisted on stepping into the spotlight, and Quinlan had reluctantly agreed. She tried to imagine the ramifications of the day’s events and when she did, her stomach twisted.

Minutes later, Raul came to find them. The crowd inside the courtroom had just seen their faces but they still goggled at them. Those sitting closest to the center alley shuffled away from the approaching Dhampir. A young woman almost climbed on the lap of her neighbor in her haste to put more distance between her and Quinlan. Their heartbeats were a chorus of rapid thuds, and she had to make her breaths shallower so that the stink of adrenaline would not fill her nostrils. She wanted to scream. She wanted to yell at all of them and at the rest of the world she knew was watching.

_Please…please, don’t fear us._

A man stared at Quinlan’s red throat and his mouth contorted in horror.

_Please, don’t hate us._

Quinlan ignored them supremely but her eyes were burning. Gus had left the stand and walked straight to the cameraman who had lost his focus, and whose camera was pointing at a wall.

“Brah, snap out of it,” said Gus and he clapped his hands next to the man’s face.

He startled, took hold of his camera and pointed it at the Dhampir. Lexi walked straight to the stand while Quinlan sat next to Aanya and Laura and where Raul and Gus joined him. The judge presiding asked Lexi to make an affirmation. That was easy.

“I solemnly and sincerely declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give will be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

As clear as if they spoke directly in her ear, Lexi heard quiet comments regarding her appearance and voice. Could she blame them? She thought back to her first encounter with Quinlan to reassure herself. Her first reaction had been to point a gun at his strange face and in comparison a few murmurs were tame.

Alvi began by asking her personal questions such as more particulars about her species. She repeated the lies she had told others until now. Quinlan and Lexi were a cousin species of the Strigoi, and the Master had committed genocide against them. She had been born centuries ago and her Dhampir parents had died when she was young. Then she had had human loved ones and eventually, had met Quinlan. She was not proud of those lies. But she also had no wish to give ideas of eternal life to the wrong people. Wasn’t that how all of this had started? Alvi paused briefly, and by the way his finger twisted as if aching to hold a cigarette, she knew the more serious questions would come.

“Do you have worms like the Strigoi?”

“No, we are not parasites. You could swallow a glass full of my blood, and nothing would come of it.”

“But you have a stinger and you drink human blood?”

“I do, but I also enjoy biscuits and tea.”

There were more whispers, but this time, more curious than afraid. Alvi pointed at the screen still showing the two Dhampir facing the Master.

“What is taking place in that video?” he asked.

“The final battle. Our human associates, including Augustin and Raul, are surrounding Central Park to defend devices which disrupted the link between the Master and the Strigoi.”

“Could he control the Strigoi at that very moment?”

“No, he could not, and he was also in a weakened state. You can see several Strigoi unable to move while we fight.”

Alvi pressed play and slowed the video down so that their human eyes could see what was happening. A few Strigoi stood like statues on the periphery of the terrace. When Lexi was stabbed, Aanya startled and Laura slapped a hand over her mouth. Their horror intensified when the Master slashed as Quinlan’s face who retreated and stood between him and Lexi. On the footage, the Dhampir’s eyes glowed and within instants, they had the Master on his knees and their stingers pulled on his head which flew and landed on the ground. In the video, Zach, who had attempted to follow the fight as best as he could, dropped the phone. The screen was dark but it still recorded sound. Seconds later, there was a gunshot and Alvi paused the video.

“What happened after you decapitated the Master?”

“Zach shot Quinlan which is what we heard at the end of the video.”

“And the Master was headless when it happened?”

“He was.”

“Could Zach have acted under the Master’s control?”

“No.”

Judge Smith leaned forward with a grave face and the defense lawyers exchanged notes that they wrote very quickly. Lexi’s gaze fell on the only teenager sitting among the accused. She could see in his eyes the desire to hurt her. More than that, the desire to _kill_ her _._

She smiled at him. A deeply sorrowful smile, because although he did not deserve to be acquitted, she did not wish for his execution. Lexi wanted justice. The peace which would only arise from the people responsible to be held accountable for the atrocities they had committed. Lexi wished this justice could be dispensed without more death. Because of his youth and because he would never have a chance to redeem himself, she pitied him.

Unprepared for this revelation, the defense chose to forego questioning until the next hearing. She took a seat between Aanya and Laura, and the two women scooted closer to her. Laura slid her arm around Lexi’s elbow, and Aanya took her hand. Her sorrow abated a little.

Quinlan now sat at the stand and the comments about him were slightly louder than mere whispers. The judge had to reclaim silence once more. Just like Lexi, he affirmed his devotion to telling only the truth. His clear eyes scanned the room then stayed on Alvi when he spoke again.

“Mister Quinlan, when were you born?”

“About two thousand years ago.”

“When did you start chasing the Master?”

“About two thousand years ago.”

The Sun Hunters chuckled but quickly stopped when Judge Smith glared at them.

“Why did you want to kill him?”

“Much the same reasons described by Lexi. I lost my mother, my wives and my children to the Master.”

“Were your wives human?”

“Yes. As were my adopted daughters.”

“You raised human children?”

“I did, during two separate eras of my life. Both times I came home and the Master had turned them so I had to give them mercy.”

Most of the Sun Hunters had not known this. Their lingering smiles disappeared.

“Twice? Why is that?”

“The Master knew of my existence and enjoyed inflicting suffering upon me. It was some sort of game for him.”

Laura stared away with a trembling chin and Lexi squeezed her hand gently. The woman always got flustered when hearing about children dying. Lexi was not a mother, but she understood.

“I’m sorry to hear that. If you don’t mind we will now review another footage. The first half of a piece of evidence already introduced earlier.”

Alvi switched to the surveillance footage in the Stoneheart tower. Minutes before Dr. Goodweather killed his Strigoi of an ex-wife. Abraham Setrakian and Dr. Goodweather fought Eldritch Palmer who was not human anymore. Alvi commented that at this moment the Master already occupied the old man. Both Vasily Fet and Quinlan arrived and in seconds, the Master was locked in a metal coffin. Alvi asked Quinlan to explain the images. As he did, Lexi was distracted by the increasing loudness of the defense lawyers’ heartbeats. When she smelled the air in their direction it was slightly brackish from their sweat. But their expressions remained controlled.

“Was the Master still in the coffin when Zach Goodweather activated the atomic bomb just minutes later?”

“He was. In fact, the explosion blew open the coffin. By pressing that button, Zach effectively freed the Master.”

His face was cold when he added,

“The explosion killed the people who worked relentlessly to imprison the Master. Even Dr. Goodweather who searched for his son in the fallout.” – he turned to Zach - “ _You_ are responsible for his death.”

Zach stood and screamed,

“You are lying! Liar! LIAR!”

Before he could take another breath, the bailiff dragged him out of the room. Even when the door closed, they could hear his screams punctuated by loud sobs.

“ _That really hurt him,_ ” said Lexi.

“ _He deserves to face the consequences of his wickedness._ ”

The judges put an end to the session and the Dhampir were ushered out of New York, lest they stay and face the consequences of their integrity.

 


	28. Blind Justice

 

Quinlan was reinvigorated when the familiar smells of the Greystone grounds reached them. The ratios of the different tree species, the individual animals and their unique scents, all together their perfume reminded him of Lexi’s smiles and of tender moments.

“ _I’m glad to be back_ ,” she said when he drove off the asphalt road to join the cover of the trees.

It did not take long for the media to explode with educated guesses and speculations regarding the two Dhampir. Lexi would watch the evening news, standing by the couch and scowling anxiously the entire time. Questions were asked, and people discussed their possible answers endlessly. What were their true intentions? Why had they not stopped the Master centuries ago? Those who knew the couple personally were sought out feverishly and harassed for interviews.

Ambushed outside the Sun Hunter headquarters, Gus tried to avoid a journalist throwing questions haphazardly his way. The journalist, a young man in a frayed suit, trotted behind Gus and the image bobbed up and down from the steps of the cameraman.

“How did you come to trust non-human creatures like this?” asked the journalist while speaking in a microphone which he then thrust toward Gus.

“’Cause they didn’t ask no stupid questions like you, puto.”

“How did you turn your back on them without fearing a stinger bite?”

The wings of Gus’ nose flared.

“Bitch, they saved my life so many times I only have a good night sleep when they’re around.”

Gus strutted away because his exasperation was turning into rage.

“Do you believe they should be allowed to live around humans?”

Gus flipped around, his expression murderous. He got so close the journalist tucked his head between his shoulders to avoid their brows touching.

“They saved your life too, shitstain. When people talk about my family like this I feel like going medieval on their asses. Now fuck off.”

Quinlan stared at the screen even after Lexi turned it off. He was not shocked by Gus’ uncouth behavior; he was rather used to it. _Family._ Of all words, this was the one that struck him.

“ _I wonder when that happened. This really, really sucks,_ ” said Lexi with a sigh.

Quinlan was already picking up the phone and Gus answered after a few rings.

“Sup?”

“We were watching the news and…”

Gus whispered a string of swear words.

“You saw it, huh?”

“I’m afraid we did.”

“Well, fuck.”

Quinlan hesitated before saying the very thing he had called to tell him.

“Thank you _, Gus_.”

“Don’t get all lovey-dovey, it creeps me out,” replied Gus with his usual joviality.

“I assure you that I won’t.”

“Good! And don’t watch the news too much. They’re a bunch of dicks.”

Lexi stretched a hand to claim the phone. Her worry was gone and she stood very close to Quinlan as she spoke to Gus.

“We just wanted to see just how screwed we are.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries and jokes then she hung up.

“ _I love you so much right now_ ,” she said and hugged him so tightly it knocked the wind out of his lungs.

“ _Why is that?_ ”

Quinlan hugged her back, playing with the wild hairs tickling his throat. The swell of her affection ran warm throughout his body. Suddenly, they both purred.

“ _It just is_.”

***

One evening as Quinlan picked up the blood rations and the newspaper, he noticed a written note across an article. It was Nigel’s messy handwriting. “ _What an arsepiece.”_

The article was titled: “ _Dhampir, friend or foe?_ ”

“An evolutionary link between Strigoi and Humans lies in a species only recently uncovered, the Dhampir. However, the main commonality they share with their cousins is also the most important one: they are predators. Specifically, they prey on _us…_ ”

Quinlan skimmed the rest as he walked back to the house. It was the usual mix of prejudice and the pretense of objectivity. It made him snarl in revulsion. The last sentence caught his eye.

“Why should the lamb he happy that the lion chased away the wolf?”

Should they expect pitchforks and torches during their next visit to New York? Quinlan was tempted to tear away the article and spare Lexi that grief. But she would not like it. She wanted to see and hear everything and Quinlan could not help but think that this desire was not motivated solely by pragmatism. It felt like self-flagellation.

The air was frigid and the sounds of the forest were quieter than when they had first arrived. Through t,he large window doors, he spotted Lexi busying herself at the stove.

“ _What are you making?_ ” he asked after entering the house and putting the cooler on the countertop.

He tossed the newspaper on the dining table, retaining no hope that she would remain ignorant of the hatred within its pages.

“ _I missed making pancakes. At least this time no one will complain that they supposedly taste weird._ ”

Her phone buzzed softly. She took a quick look at the screen, made a surprised “huh” sound then put it back.

“ _Laura says we should check out Costello speaking to the press. It will start in forty minutes. Let’s have breakfast before then._ ”

Quinlan took two large glasses from the pantry and filled them with blood. He slid the newspaper to the side of the table and sat down. When she joined him with a plate full of food, he was about to speak. Quinlan wanted to tell her about his travels to Asia…or perhaps those in Northern Africa. Something exotic and strange which would take her mind off of the present. But she was quicker.

“ _Quinlan…I had an idea,”_ she said and her smile was facetious.

“ _When you smile like this, mayhem usually follows._ ”

Several pieces of furniture had needed replacement the previous time. He did not mind. There were oak planks in the attic which he thought about using to reacquaint himself with carpentry.

“ _Not that…not now…maybe later._ ” – her smile widened – “ _have you ever wished you could enjoy human food?_ ”

“ _No. I think the equivalent for you would be imagining drinking blood when you were human. Not particularly appetizing. Though, I can appreciate certain smells. The scent of your meal is not disagreeable for example._ ”

“ _Would you like to try?_ ”

“ _It would make me sick, I believe._ ”

The thought of swallowing solid foods was revolting.

“ _Not my food…like this._ ”

She tapped her temple and he leaned back in his chair to consider it. What a strange proposal. But she seemed too enthusiastic for him to refuse.

“ _Show me._ ”

He almost startled when she did. _The smell was strong, rich and sweet._ Though he expected her to share the memories of the meal she had been consuming at this very moment, he had been mistaken. _The little cube melted as soon as it touched her tongue and coated it in an oily and smooth substance._ He recognized the perfume and closed his eyes to fully appreciate the brand new sensations of the savors that accompanied it.

“ _Chocolate?_ ” he asked.

“ _Ha! I knew I could not surprise you!_ ”

Quinlan reached across the table to kiss her brow and nuzzle her temple.

“ _If anything, your surprising me is what doesn’t surprise me.”_

“ _Really?_ ”

_“Your very first action came so unexpected I thought I was delirious from starvation._ _I was sitting in the sun waiting for an army to rush me, and without warning, Strigoi exploded left and right._ ”

She burst out laughing and they kissed, but with difficulty because their lips were stretched by amusement. Lexi pulled away from him and peered into his eyes with curiosity.

“ _Did you like it? The chocolate?_ ”

“ _I did._ ”

An entire world of sensations that had just come to light. It was a wonderful present, and he was thankful.

“ _We can finish our meal later,”_ he said and at the same time rattled lowly.

Quinlan walked around the table and pulled her to her feet.

“ _Not now? Why?_ ”

He hugged her and bit gently into her neck.

“ _Mayhem._ ”

***

Costello’s press conference sent a very clear message. Though she understood the apprehension and fear, she insisted on two points. Firstly, the Dhampir were under control and not a threat. Secondly, the harassment by the press would cease. They could ask for interviews in written form and if the answer was no then it would be the end of it.

“Everyone and by that I mean _everyone_ , has a right to privacy. Those who refuse to understand that fact can continue their stalking and other paparazzi-like behaviors outside of New York.”

She gathered her notes and ignored the shouts of furious journalists. Under flashes and accompanied by police, she left.

Quinlan was relieved that their Sun Hunters would not have to suffer the unpalatable strategies of the press any longer. Lexi agreed that this part was certainly good news but was bothered by one thing.

“ _Only dangerous things need to be kept under control._ ”

“ _We are dangerous, beloved. That’s undeniable.”_

_“Not to them. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Do you?”_

“ _No, I don’t_.”

But that was usually the case until humans stood in his way in some fashion. And particularly when they pointed weapons at him. Or if they hurt Lexi, just like Hinata had done and to a lower extent, Arturo.

He switched off the television and enticed her to a walk in the forest. Their breaths condensed into clouds ahead of them and the air smelled a little metallic. Quinlan had decided against telling her about East Asia because it might remind her of Hinata.

“ _Have you ever been to the Dead Sea?_ ”

“ _Haha! No! I think it might be simpler if I tell you where I have been. It would make a much shorter list._ ”

“ _Please do so. I’d like to hear it._ ”

Her fingers twined into his and they walked on.

***

Two days before the next hearing, Lexi and Quinlan were in New York for yet another training session. The extermination of the Strigoi plague could not bear a delay, even with the current events. Both Dhampir exited the unmarked police car and regarded the brand new coat of the paint on the Sun Hunter Headquarters with suspicion. Massive, industrial and a little shabby, the building had never required any change apart for purely practical considerations. Why should the Sun Hunters suddenly care about its outward appearance?

Quinlan approached the wall and touched it. It was still tacky. Lexi lifted her nose and sniffed the air.

“ _Some parts are more recent than others, they smell wet,_ ” she said.

Once they were buzzed inside, Gus and Raul greeted them as usual.

“Hey, why did you paint the building? It’s weird,” asked Lexi.

Raul scratched his nose and looked away. Gus made the same face he used when telling trainees to pack their stuff and go home. He would not react that way unless it concerned the Dhampir directly.

“Some little assholes started writing stuff on the walls, it ain’t important.”

“It was important enough that you felt the need to hide them,” she said.

“ _From us_ ,” she added for Quinlan’s benefit only.

“Please, do not feel obliged to spare us grief. We much rather be informed of such incidents as they come,” said Quinlan.

“Alright, guys. Well, it was mostly random words like bloodsuckers or collaborators. Once it was Quisling and I had to google that one. None of it made any sense,” said Gus.

“And some animal blood at some point. Splashed all over the sidewalk too. Nasty,” said Raul with a grimace of disgust.

The cousins avoided their gaze for a while.

“We should tell them,” said Raul.

“The other day we got a letter, and it was for you guys but it gave me the hibbie-jibbies so we checked it. There was powdered silver hidden inside. Just some people being assholes.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Lexi.

“Huh, you got it backward Lex,” said Gus and he laughed.

“ _Lexi, they are ashamed. I suspect this might be the main reason they chose not to disclose those incidents._ ”

Lexi appeared even more dejected. It distressed Quinlan that she should make herself responsible for every evil remotely connected to her. He did not consider it healthy.

“Ha! I hate it when you make that face! Come here,” said Gus and he grabbed Lexi by the shoulders pulled her along as they advanced toward the back of the room. A group of trainees waited for the next lesson. She slid an arm around Gus’ waist and inquired about Aanya and Angela. Quinlan and Raul followed them.

“I ain’t hugging you so don’t get your hopes up,” said Raul.

“I am overwhelmed by disappointment,” said Quinlan with a deadpan delivery.

***

The defense had a new strategy, and it was quite simple. Two facts contradicted their strategy, that the Master was locked in a coffin when Zach pushed the trigger and that he had shot Quinlan when the Master was without shell. The veracity of those points relied on the Dhampir’s testimonies alone. And if their word could not be trusted for one reason or another, then it remained plausible that the Master had indeed controlled the accused.

“Is your stinger identical to a Strigoi’s?” asked Finnigan, a defense lawyer.

Quinlan was not surprised she would ask him this. For humans, this was by far the most displeasing part of his anatomy.

“It is somewhat shorter,” said Quinlan.

“Can you show it to the court?”

His lips remained firmly sealed and he looked at the lawyer, imagining what her reaction would be if he were stupid enough to carry out her request.

“Your Honor! Their stingers were clearly visible in video evidence, and this is a blatant attempt at feeding the prejudice against our witness,” said Uru as, she sprung from her chair.

“I agree. Counsel Finnigan, this is not a circus. We do not demand of anyone that they expose themselves without a very good reason,” said Judge Smith.

“I retract my question. Have you ever killed human beings?”

“I have.”

“Have you ever killed human beings _with_ your stinger?”

“I have.”

The judge peered around the room, waiting for an upheaval that did not come. The media had discussed that point so often that no one was surprised to hear it confirmed.

“Did you use that stinger against Zach Goodweather?”

“I did before he could shoot me once more.”

“Where did you supposedly get shot?”

“In this shoulder.”

“Your shoulder looks fine to me,” said the lawyer dismissively.

“So does your client. One could say we are even.”

“I meant that only two people witnessed my client supposedly shooting you. You and your companion. Do you have a scar?”

“I do not scar from normal bullets.”

“But I can see clearly from here that you _can_ have scars. It is awfully convenient that you should have no mark at all from what my client supposedly did to you while we can clearly see traces of other injuries from that very same day.”

“There is nothing convenient about it. We do not scar from normal weaponry or injuries, only from silver and for a reason unknown to me, from the Master’s direct attacks.”

“Is there any person who can corroborate this, besides your companion?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. Mister Elizalde has witnessed Lexi healing from a deep wound in her forearm. The knife which caused it was steel and by now, there is no trace of it. Perhaps he should take my place at the stand.”

Gus very briefly confirmed that he saw Lexi cutting her arm open and soon after she was also asked to speak.

“If the judge will allow it, could the witness uncover her arms?” asked the defense lawyer.

“I’ll allow it.”

Lexi unbuttoned her cuffs and folded her sleeves up. Her alabaster skin was smooth on both her arms.

“Can you scar at all? Contrary to Mister Quinlan, you bear no apparent sequels from that day or at all.”

“Are you proposing that only Quinlan is unlucky enough to get marks but not me? That’s far-fetched, even for you.”

Quinlan repressed a growl and the growing animosity he felt toward that lawyer. Alvi gestured discretely in his direction, made big eyes at him and shook his head. The prosecutor had been quite clear that Quinlan should strive not to stare at people when he felt irritated. So he detached his gaze from the Esquire Finnigan and focused on Lexi alone.

“Well, you are not identical, and we know little of your species. You can eat solid foods, he cannot and you have hair and he doesn’t…this could extend further than what you have disclosed so far.”

Judge Smith cleared his throat and with more hesitation than he had ever shown before he said,

“Madam Lexi, please do answer the inquiry.”

“I can scar and I _have_ scars.”

“Could you show us?” asked Finnigan.

Quinlan could tell Lexi did not want to. Her jaw had tightened, and he could hear her small heart accelerating. A gentle rattle escaped him and Alvi turned in his direction and gave him a reproachful glance.

“Your Honor, we’ve been through this. We ask that our learned friend cease such demands,” said Uru once more.

“Overruled. I tend to agree with the defense on this one. We only know of the Dhampir what they chose to tell us so far.”

Now her heart was aflutter, impossibly loud to his ears. She looked at Quinlan, worried. It was so very petty and easily disprovable. Quinlan suspected that if Lexi had not reacted so defensively, the lawyer would not have pushed the question further. Finnigan seemed to smell discomfort like a shark sensed blood.

“ _Don’t. To Hell with them,_ ” said Quinlan.

“ _It’s stupid, really…I hate it when you see them. It’s a reminder of everything I did wrong that day. And they are also hideous.”_

It had been so long, and she still dressed quickly or turned away from him so that he would not have a clear look of her scars. It pained him more as time passed. Sometimes, during brief moments he instantly regretted, he also resented her for it. How could she think him so shallow?

_“Those are the medals of your victory over the Master. They are not beautiful but since they are yours, I love them all the same.”_

She shook her head and smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.

“ _You say the darndest things sometimes.”_

She stood, pulled her shirt out of her pants and raised its hem just enough to reveal the five scars marring her midsection. They were larger than the size of the fingers which had inflicted them because Quinlan had burned the skin over and around the original wounds. They looked a little sunken, as though her flesh had melted shut over empty holes.

Most Sun Hunters averted their gazes, either in surprise or because they knew Lexi enough to recognize her uneasiness. The defense lawyer did not appear particularly disappointed and as soon as Lexi sat back down, she switched her line of questioning.

“Could the Master see through the eyes of all Strigoi?”

“Yes, he could and he did,” said Lexi, her cheeks still whiter than usual but her voice steady.

“What would that look like to a person facing one such Strigoi?”

“They would see the Strigoi’s eyes turn red, like a glow from inside.”

“Why did your pupils glow in much the same way just before you killed the Master?”

“ _Ha. People won’t like this at all_ ,” she told Quinlan.

“ _Yes, that is the point. It changes nothing._ ”

“Because Quinlan and I can see through each other’s eyes as well.”

“Can you control humans?”

Lexi laughed and shook her head.

“Of course not! And we cannot control Strigoi and certainly not each other. Look at this mess of a world. If we possessed such incredible abilities, why would we let it devolve into chaos which only makes our lives more difficult?”

“Could the Master control you?”

“If he could, he would not be dead.”

She made a show of switching on the screen and fast-forwarding through the video depicting their fight against the Master.

“Why did you hesitate here? You could probably have ended it and avoided a painful injury.”

“He showed me images of someone I loved that he had turned. It took me by surprise.”

“Interesting. Did you not know he could do that before that very moment?”

“No,” said Lexi between clenched teeth.

“So he had abilities you knew nothing about?”

“It appears so.”

“How could he do that if he could not control Strigoi at that moment? Because of the jamming devices.”

“We do not operate at the same…frequency…as them.”

“That’s also convenient. Is it possible that the Master had other such powers you did not know about?”

“Possibly, yes.”

“Could it be that just like the jamming devices did not affect his ability to reach _you,_ that other hindrances to his ability to control his Strigoi did not apply to _all_ his powers?”

“Objection! Leading question!” said Takaha.

“Overruled. Please, answer the question,” said Judge Smith.

“It could be, yes.”

“Very well. No more questions your Honor.”

Takaha took over, and Quinlan was thankful for it. When he stood and spoke, Lexi’s quick heartbeat slowed.

“I would like to question Lexi here as an expert witness since she took over Dutch Velder and Dr. Goodweathers’ work in building those jamming devices.”

The judges agreed.

“How does a jamming device function, in laymen’s terms please?”

“It floods a specific frequency which the Strigoi used to communicate. It would be like a dog whistle, so loud, dogs cannot hear themselves bark anymore.”

“And you function on a different frequency level?”

“Yes.”

“If the ability to control humans truly existed, it would function on another frequency yet?”

“Possibly.”

“Much like a radio?”

“Much like it, yes.”

“What happens if you put a radio in a thick lead-lined container?”

“It goes silent,” said Lexi with a grin.

“Would it block _all_ such signals?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Could the Master have forced Zach Goodweather to trigger the nuclear bomb from inside the coffin?”

“No.”

“Could the Master communicate with you in any way while formless?”

“We could _feel_ his pain, but he made no attempt at stopping us with images as he had before.”

“In your expert opinion, why?”

“Because without a brain he could not control anything. He was crippled. The worm was like a seed and it needed a body to reach its full potential.”

“Thank you. I do not have more questions.”

Lexi returned to sit next to Quinlan and took his hand. The prosecution announced that they were done and the defense also confirmed that they had finished with their line of questioning. The judges put an end to the hearing.

***

The news had been taken over by the expectancy of the verdict. A date was set and on numerous television channels, a countdown showed the time to that last hearing to the minute. This time, when they talked about the Dhampir, it was mostly in the context of reiterating the evidence and testimonies again. There were still occasional debates regarding their trustworthiness. The Dhampir had killed the Master and had founded the Sun Hunters but they were not humans. So far the division had been clear.

Though humans could be corrupted to work for the Strigoi, the opposite had never been true. What was Strigoi was the enemy and since the Fall it had been a truth for all. A division neat and reassuring. But now that the existence of Dhampir belied that clarity, the dissonance was too much for many. Troubled minds did not deal well with blurry lines.

There were still protests in front of the courthouse as the countdown progressed. It was impossible to appreciate the architecture of the large-face granite building because of the large crowds. They were noisy and chanting vulgar slogans while brandishing cardboard cards on which they had written their anger.

“ _They are more bloodthirsty than we will ever be…_ ” said Quinlan as they watched the news reports.

“ _It’s not directed at us this time but...Let’s just say I really hope they’ll be found guilty._ ”

Quinlan had little doubt on the outcome. So when the time came he was calm and shared that state of mind with Lexi as much as he could. The courthouse filled and Laura arrived last, though Lexi had kept her a spot. She had been running. Quinlan greeted her then listened to their conversation.

“Since school is out, I couldn't find a babysitter,” Laura whispered then took long breaths to calm herself.

“Everything is okay, though?” asked Lexi.

“Yeah, Maria stayed outside with her. She said she can’t be bothered to listen to more of this shit.”

“Maria, huh? You guys have been hanging out quite a lot lately.”

Lexi had a crooked smile and Laura blushed but did not seem too bothered.

“We could extend the invitation to include Dr. Miller, if you wish. Greystone is large enough to accommodate everyone for any length of time,” said Quinlan.

“Well…if instead of driving directly out of the city we could do a little detour then she could pick up her things. That is if she even wants to, of course,” said Laura.

Both Laura and Emma would leave the city with the Dhampir and spend a few days in Greystone. The weather had lost its cold bite and their grounds had been free of any Strigoi activity for months. Quinlan had crafted a new chess board himself and planned on surprising the little girl with it. Lexi leaned toward Laura and whispered as if conspiring,

“Of course.”

They all fell silent when the judges entered the room. It was followed by closing statements by Alvi then by Finnigan. When Judge Smith stood to announce his verdict, Lexi was incredibly tense next to him. But he knew it would be short-lived suspense.

One by one, he named the accused and their crimes and the corresponding verdict. Thirty-four were found guilty of committing crimes against humanity. Judge Smith finished his statement on a dark note,

“Even if you were indeed controlled by the Master, you had at least one occasion lasting almost an entire day during which you could have made others aware of that fact. We have to conclude that your defense was purposefully misleading and untrue. Your actions which led so many to atrocious deaths were voluntary and will be punished accordingly.

“But we are not Strigoi. You will not die kicking and screaming. You will be put to sleep humanely by medical doctors and when completely unconscious, you will be bled until death. Your bodies and blood will be cremated, and your ashes scattered into the ocean. If you have a god, may they have mercy on your souls.”

Quinlan looked a last time upon the face of Zach Goodweather who stared at his own feet. His rage was gone, replaced by the fear of a young boy _._ It was a sad spectacle.

The courtroom remained quiet for the most part. Some were grave, a few still staring angrily at the accused and many cried. The room quickly emptied into the hall and toward the front exit.

There were no sounds of protests outside. New Yorkers had been ordered to stay confined inside their homes for the last installment of the trial. Costello wanted to avoid riots in case the masses disliked the verdict. In one hour, the curfew would be lifted, but that left plenty of time for the Dhampir and their friends to leave the city safely.

They walked out of the room amongst the last, giving time to the crowd to clear out first. The great hall was not yet empty. Teams of journalists recorded the people exiting while commenting on the events. Cameras and their crews stood neatly behind a corded area which Quinlan considered with satisfaction. In a corridor leading away from the wide doors of the courtroom, Maria waited with Emma. As soon as the little girl spotted Lexi and Quinlan, she called on them. Quinlan’s traits softened when Emma escaped Maria’s grasp and ran in their direction.

Someone shouted in the vast and majestic lobby of the courthouse.

“Bloodsuckers!”

All eyes were on the man. He was dressed like a bailiff and wore a hat that did not fit with the rest of his clothes. Quinlan did not recognize him. The man took an object out of his pocket and threw it at the feet of the Dhampir.

The grenade rolled noisily on the stone floor. It looked handmade.

Gus was already pulling Aanya and Laura back in the courtroom. Time slowed for the Dhampir and all the humans surrounding them stood almost still. They could run away before the thing had a chance to explode. But it struck Quinlan that this was not even an option. Emma was still running at him. He jumped toward the little girl who could die if shrapnel hit her at this distance. He crouched over her little body and glanced above his shoulder. Lexi grabbed the explosive device with both hands and pulled it apart.

There was no explosion. The fuse burned in her right hand without touching the explosive material enclosed in Lexi’s other fist. Quinlan’s relief was so short as to be almost non-existent

The sparks from the fuse highlighted a scintillating metal cloud from within. The silver sand contained in the device formed a fine mist that spread between Lexi’s arms, as though she was embracing it. She closed her eyes and turned away.

But it was too late. Her pain shot through the Bond. Lexi screeched and her unfettered agony tore roars from his chest. Emma cried and trembled against him. He let go of the girl and flew to Lexi because his mind was on fire. He had felt it when Hinata had driven a silver knife into her. It had been nothing compared to this.

And as he rushed, tripping over his own feet from the blinding loudness of her screams, he wished he could shut it all down. He wished he could will himself unconscious and not feel like this anymore. Then he saw her, almost convulsing on the stone tiles as she attempted to claw the silver off. And he disgusted himself for forgetting that this was _her_ pain. She needed him.

Quinlan yanked a large water bottle from a nearby fountain and shoved it in Gus’ arms. With violence he wished he could avoid, Quinlan forced Lexi’s arms down and kneeled on them. Then he pinched her nose closed and forced her mouth shut. Gus poured the water over her face. But the pain was not going down.

“Make her open her eyes!” screamed Maria at Quinlan as she took a water bottle out of her purse.

He did, he held her drenched head down and forced her to open her eyelids. Her eyes bled and her feet smacked the marble as if attempting to run away from this torture. Maria poured water over the burning sclera, irises, and third eyelids.

Lexi’s body contracted and she lost consciousness. Quinlan felt guilty at how much relief this brought him. The water ran down her cheeks and temples, milky and shimmering with silver particles. The more water Maria poured, the clearer the liquid became.

Outside the room, people screamed and ran, but a line of Sun Hunters prevented the chaos from approaching them. In the distance, sirens.

When the ambulance came and they drove to the nearest emergency room at neck-breaking speed, Maria barked orders at the EMTs who were too scared of the two Dhampir to be of any use. Exasperated, she pushed them out of the way and injected Lexi with an anesthetic. Her gestures were blurry. Everything was blurry. He removed his gloves and wiped his face. When had he started tearing up? He had not noticed until now.

Lexi regained consciousness when they reached the hospital. Her thoughts were sluggish and dulled by the anesthetics but still, she whimpered. Quinlan pulled her up against him, enclosing her small frame in his coat. Her words tasted like grief when she shared them.

“ _I can’t see you.”_

Through the Bond, he was a shapeless grey form. He wished he could reply that all would be well. That she would be fine. But through the Bond, he could not lie. So instead, he stroked her damp hair and rocked softly until the double doors of the ambulance opened.


	29. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, ...

 

The anesthetic did not last long enough but the doctors refused to inject her with more, unsure how her physiology would react. So every time they came to flush her eyes with saline, Quinlan would hold her as she screamed herself raw. In between treatments, he murmured in her mind to lull her to sleep.

Quinlan was exhausted. His muscles were weak as though he had been injured himself. Maria entered the bedroom quietly, noticed Lexi finally sleeping and gestured at Quinlan to follow him outside.

As Lexi slept, her head full of nightmares, Quinlan reluctantly stepped out of her room. On each side of the door, Sun Hunters stood watch, including Eva who was biting her nails until none of their white edges were left. No one had asked them to come but still, there they were. Quinlan was thankful.

“The burns on her skin and in her eyes were treated quickly enough that we might avoid long-term damage. I would normally wait an entire day before making a final assessment, but it seems her condition has already stabilized. Unfortunately, the trauma has clouded the vitreous humor inside her right eye.”

Quinlan’s hands closed in tight fists. The pain had gone, and there was still grief weighing in his chest but now his body tensed with rising anger.

“We will have to remove that vitreous humor in order to preserve her eyesight on that side. The surgery can be done with general anesthesia or local…”

“General anesthesia,” said Quinlan. “Make her sleep. She doesn’t need to suffer through that as well.”

“Yes…I also thought it would be for the best. We can proceed right away and within two hours, she will be back with you.”

“Yes, there is no point in waiting. Thank you, doctor.”

Maria nodded gravely.

“Laura called, and she wanted you to know that Emma is fine, just a little shaken. She is asking after you guys. Maybe you can call her when you have a little time?”

“I will.”

But not right now, because his day was far from over. When the doctor walked away, he stared at the Sun Hunters. They stood alert then followed him to the nearest staircase, away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

“Where is the man who did this?” asked Quinlan.

“We don’t know…in the panic he slipped away but…” said Eva.

She pulled a plastic bag from her pocket.

“I saw him drop this.”

It was a baseball cap sealed in clear plastic. He looked at the woman and the two men accompanying her whose names he now recalled were Trevor and Ash. The three of them were from Lexi’s team.

“This...” – he made a gesture encompassing all of them – “never happened.”

He put the bag in his pocket.

“We came here to keep an eye on our buddies, nothing else. Also, I will be staying here with you in this deserted staircase the entire duration of Lexi’s surgery,” said Eva.

She leaned against the wall and thrust her chin toward the descending stairs. Quinlan ran down with Ash and Trevor on his heels. Out of the building and onto the dark streets they drove away. Quinlan would have preferred being alone, but the canals prevented him from moving unassisted. The city was empty. Either the curfew was still in place after the attack or it was too dark for people to get over their fears of the night.

They returned to the courthouse with its metal barricades still present. The wide stone stairs were covered in various garbage, mostly discarded cardboard signs. Quinlan opened the plastic bag and inhaled deeply. The man’s scent was pungent and disagreeable. That person drank and smoked and spent a significant part of his day around car oils and fuel. Quinlan closed the bag and lifted his face to the night air. It took him a long time to disentangle the myriad of scents lingering.

The hardest was ignoring Lexi’s. With a sharp twitch of his head, he located the smell he had been looking for. Quinlan indicated the way and those were the only words spoken. His anger grew with the strength of the trail. It led to a building in Hell’s Kitchen. The entire ground level was a mechanic’s shop and above an occupied flat. The windows glowed with flashing lights and shifting colors. Their motions were accompanied by the noises of a television. The smell came from that flat and inside, there was a single heartbeat and the snoring of a large man. Quinlan exited the car and closed the door softly.

“Pick me up in one hour,” he said.

The men drove away without any sign of acknowledgment, but Quinlan knew they would be back exactly one hour from now.

In the cluttered flat, he found a table displaying the proof of this man’s guilt. There was silver filed into a fine powder and more explosives. Enough raw materials to create a dozen more grenades. Had the man planned more attacks? On the walls were pictures of a smiling woman as well as two young children. But in the various rooms, there was no sign of this woman or of those children. This was a common occurrence. Broken families were the norm now.

This place did not provide the privacy Quinlan craved, so he strolled to the sleeping man and hugged his neck. He awoke from his drunken stupor, and his struggle was nothing. Utterly pointless. The Dhampir knew exactly how much pressure to apply and for how long. It was trivial when he could rely on the music of the man’s heartbeats as a guide. He hoisted the man on his shoulder and carried him inside the bowels of the city. He knew them well by now.

In those deserted tunnels, the man would not die quickly. He wanted to hate them, so Quinlan was happy to offer him a reason to justify his hatred.

For so long his fury had been focused on the Master, it was almost liberating to be about to unleash it against a more accessible target. He never had a reason to resent a human being as he did at this moment. Past his initial anger directed at Hinata, his desire to kill her had been mostly pragmatic. There were also logical reasons why _this_ man should die, but right now only rage moved him.

The man was still unconscious, his mouth hanging open and filling the air with the stench of alcohol.

Quinlan thought about what he would do to him. His mind swirled with images of violence and gore. He wanted to do those things, those unspeakable acts, so very badly. Then he paused because he thought about Lexi. When he conjured her face, she was always smiling. But not this time. This time her eyes were judging him, her skin a human pink and her hair dark. _You don’t have to be kind, but you do not need to be cruel._

Could he be cruel in her name? To avenge her pain? Of course not. She would want that man to be trialed and sentenced. To face the music, but lawful music. Quinlan made a decision and took two steps away.

The man moved, regaining his bearings. It was dark, and he reached around him, unseeing. He found a wall and attempted to stand. Quinlan tried to take another step away, but could not. The rage was back. It made the edges of his vision blurry and grey with the stinking man as the sole focal point.

“Why?” asked Quinlan.

The man put his back against the wall and flailed his fists around as though this could stop Quinlan.

“Who is here? Where am I?” he screamed.

“The grenade? Why did you do it?”

Quinlan knew why: prejudice, hatred, fear. But he wanted the man to say it.

“Fuck you! I know my rights, I ain’t telling you shit.”

“So be it.”

Quinlan flipped the switch on his right and the tunnel flooded with dim yellow light.

“You!” said the man and he made himself flat against the wall.

_Me,_ thought Quinlan. _The demon you should have targeted. Not the sweet soul you maimed. The sweet one who defended you and other wretched humans. The one you never deserved. But me, oh me, you deserve aplenty._  

The claws of his stinger clashed together like knives.

“You are a lucky man. Because of the very person you almost took from me, I will not inflict upon you the suffering you deserve.”

The man’s eyes rolled madly, encompassing Quinlan and his surrounding desperately.

“You’re letting me go?” he asked, incredulous.

Quinlan laughed, very loudly and very long. Even to himself, he sounded unhinged.

“No…you are not going anywhere. I was merely stating that you will not suffer as much as I wish before you die.”

He stepped toward the man who slid down against the wall, as though trying to disappear inside of it.

“No, no, no, no! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” screamed the man, his fear increasing with each step Quinlan took.

“No...I don’t believe you truly are,” said Quinlan.

The Dhampir crouched in front of the man and cupped his face in his gloved hands. Then almost lovingly, he pressed his cheek against the human’s and whispered in his ear.

“But you will be.”

***

Back at the hospital, Quinlan ran up the stairs where Eva still waited. When he appeared, she looked at her watch and stretched.

“Welp, I’m glad we had this chat,” she said then returned to the corridor.

Gus and Raul arrived shortly after and soon, the waiting room was filled with men and women, each sporting the small tattoo of a sun on their throats.

Quinlan had had his revenge, and the rage had gone. But this time he was not at peace or calm as he had been after killing the Master. Lexi’s pain would not be lessened by his actions. Not caring about the Sun Hunter watching, he took his face in his hands.

***

Quinlan showered in the doctor’s locker room and stole scrubs before shoving his blood tainted clothes in the beat-up washing machine standing in a corner. He used disinfectant on his boots, gloves, and coat whose scent would be strong enough to mask the smell of blood. Then as the machine started its drying cycle, he joined Lexi who was just waking up. Drowsy and confused, she reached for the bandages around her head and pulled on them. Quinlan gently stopped her.

“N _ot yet. It went well, and the doctors think you will recover._ ”

“ _I want to leave._ ”

“ _As soon as we can…your team is here, do…_ ”

“ _No._ ”

There was no reason to insist. She was free to refuse visits.

“ _Can you come into bed with me?_ ” she asked and lifted the blanket.

Quinlan removed his shoes and slipped under the cover with her.

“ _Your clothes feel wrong_ ,” she said as she lied on top of his chest.

She always put her ear on top of his heart, and he would stroke her hair until one of them fell asleep.

“ _They are not mine, I stole those._ ”

She was slipping back into unconsciousness, and he stroked her shoulder to keep her awake. When someone knocked at the door, she growled. Quinlan got out of the bed and she growled louder and grabbed his hand. He held onto it but still stood to receive the visitor.

“Come in,” he said.

Costello entered and Quinlan was taken aback as he had expected the doctor.

“What do you want?” asked Lexi after sniffing the air.

“The president called me this morning.”

“Why should we care?” snarled Lexi as she turned her back on Costello.

“The president has seen what happened and wants to express his deepest sorrow.”

Lexi sighed and Quinlan was certain that if she would have been capable, she would have rolled her eyes.

“You can be sure that the person who did this will be found and severely punished,” said Costello

Quinlan remained stoic but the beatings of his heart increased a little. He would tell her. He had to tell her. But not now, not as she recovered from her still raw wounds.

“The same way you found those who disfigured three collaborators a few months back? I’m not holding my breath,” said Lexi.

“The police force is still stretched very thin, but we will do our best, for both cases. The president also wanted to revisit the conditions he imposed on you regarding Greystone. I think you should hear what he has to say. I can dial right now.”

Why? Quinlan quickly examined all the players involved and how their state of mind would change following this incident. Television teams had been recording for the benefit of the entire world. He thought about the optics that the very scene would create. The Dhampir had not fled the danger. Quinlan had shielded a small, adorable child from the blast, and Lexi had been hurt protecting everyone else. After such an event, it would not be unreasonable to assume that Quinlan and Lexi would want to distance themselves from New York. And others who might have decided they were useful monsters to have around would want to take advantage of that fact.

“Is the president afraid we might decide to leave? To try our fortune somewhere else, where we would be granted more respect and freedom?”

To his surprise, Costello appeared amused. He thought back to her words the day they had accepted to live in Greystone.

“Could it be that other countries suddenly find themselves _welcoming_?”

Now she outright laughed but without any trace of joy.

“I told him you’d figure it out right away. He still wanted me to present it like this,” said Costello.

Quinlan was about to answer, but Lexi interrupted him.

“ _I don’t want to hear any more of this._ ”

“ _As you wish._ ”

“Please thank the president for his well-wishes but tell him we are tired and just want to be left in peace. Goodbye.”

Costello shrugged, left a card with a hand-written phone number then left.

***

A bandage still covered Lexi’s eyes when they drove back to Greystone. Maria had given Quinlan a list of instructions for her medical care at home. Since their departure, her silence built a sort of pressure. Quinlan was unsure what it would lead to. She startled when her phone vibrated in her pocket, her heart exploding into a frantic gallop. Lexi put a palm on her chest and breathed deeply.

Quinlan glanced at the screen when she took the phone out. There were many texts from names he recognized as Lexi’s team. He was about to propose reading them for her but before he could, she crumpled the small device in her fist and threw the pieces at her feet. Part of Quinlan was tempted to reach through the Bond and probe at her feelings. But if she wanted to share them, she would have done so already.

Two days later, she almost yelped when the landline rang in the living room. She had not spoken since their return, preferring instead to sit in the garden and listen to the forest awakening from a cold winter. Quinlan had called Laura and Emma, as well as Gus so that he may relay to the rest of the Sun Hunters that Lexi was healing but would prefer privacy to do so. Lexi had given no sign that she had listened to those conversations.

With her hands touching every surface ahead, she located the phone. It was situated near the kitchen. Quinlan was much farther away than she was, standing by the stairs that he had just climbed down.

“ _Are you going to answer that?_ ”

Quinlan knew she would not and did not move when Lexi tore the phone off the wall and reduced it to a mess of plastic and wire. He remained just as immobile when her rage, as blind as she was, pushed her to destroy everything she could reach. The dining table flew and smashed into the library in an explosion of books and loose pages. Then she projected the couch, coffee table, and armchairs against the walls. The plaster covering them cracked into large pieces which came loose and fell into the floor in a cloud of white dust.

She had not made a sound and her thoughts were sealed shut. Out-of-breath, she dropped to her knees and her shoulders rose with each deep inhalation. Her cheeks were flushed white and her fist clenched. Lexi’s mien screamed anger, so he let her be.

Quinlan had no intention of attempting to calm her unless she was amenable to it. He gathered the remains of the coffee table and threw them in the hearth then started a fire. The flames grew and the heaves of Lexi’s chest quieted down. Both the scent and soft cracking of burning wood filled the silence.

“ _You made a fire? Are you cold?_ ”

Quinlan kicked at the debris from the cabinet where he knew he would find a particular book. The cover, thick leather, had held though a few pages were torn. He threw a blanket on the carpet in front of the fire and sat.

“ _Join me,_ ” he asked.

She did, tripping over the results of her thrashing. When her hand found his shoulder, he guided her so she could sit between his legs, with her back against his chest. He opened the volume and searched for the second chapter.

“When you get up in the morning start by saying to yourself: Today, I will deal with people who are meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous and surly. They are this way because they cannot distinguish good from evil.”

She startled at the first words because he spoke them lowly in his deep rumbling voice. Goosebumps rose where his warm breath touched her skin.

“But I have seen the beauty of goodness and the ugliness of evil, and have recognized that the wrongdoers have a nature related to my own…

“Not of the same blood or birth, but the same mind. And so none of them can hurt me. No one can put ugliness on me.

“Nor can I feel angry at my relative, or hate them. Because we are born to work together like feet, hands, and eyes, like the two rows of teeth, upper and lower. To obstruct each other is unnatural. To be vexed and to turn away: those are obstructions.”

Lexi relaxed and leaned her head back on his shoulder. He deposited a gentle kiss on her temple, just above the bandage covering her eyes. Then he flipped the pages to the sixth chapter, found the sentence he had been looking for and almost did not read it because it would make him a hypocrite. But there was strength in those words that she would relate to better than he could. He spoke them, despite his guilt.

“The best revenge is not to become like the wrongdoer.”

Her lips parted, and he gave her time to mull over the meaning of this sentence.

“ _What are you reading?_ ”

“ _The thoughts of a better man than I will ever be. A great emperor who came into power around the time of my 120 th birthday. And a dear friend. Would you like me to stop?_”

“ _No, please go on…as you were, out loud.”_

He flipped to the first page and read from the start. It was a translation from Greek, and he found some formulations lacking, so he improvised at times when the words diverged too much from what he remembered of their meaning. By the end of the first chapter, they both purred. When a particular sentence or paragraph made her react, he would pause and give her time to appreciate them. At the end of the eleventh chapter, she fell asleep but he read on so that the words, spoken softly, might soothe her dreams.

***

The living room stayed empty for three days until Quinlan finished building a table and took mismatched chairs from the empty bedrooms. Until then they would eat by the hearth on the blanket. There, Quinlan would also read and Lexi would listen. She was still quiet but more thoughtful than angry which he saw as progress in her healing. When he did not read, he still told her stories. He had enough tales in his soul to fill a library and as he slowly repaired the living room, he would tell her about his past and all the wonderful ages and places he had witnessed.

He had already ordered a new phone for her but since she never asked for it, he left in the closet of their bedroom.

Without bothering her about it and with the help of the French prosecutor, Durand, he contacted lawyers in Europe to take possession of several properties he owned. Most had been ceased by their respective states who assumed their owners had perished during the Fall. Thankfully, they had not been so quick when it came to his personal accounts in Swiss banks. Those contained the deeds of his properties as well as comfortable amounts of precious metals and currency. Thanks to intermediaries hired by Durand, he soon received confirmation that two of his houses in Italy and one in London were mostly intact.

“That’s excellent news. I am very thankful for your aid.”

“It was a pleasure, Mister Quinlan. How is Lexi?” said Durand.

“She is…better.”

“Huh huh…Do thank her on my part. I got a call today from the Minister of Defense. He wanted your contact info but I was quite uncomfortable sharing them without your express approval.”

“I guess the outbreak in Marseille last week prompted her to reach out?”

“Yes…It was a real tragedy. They are desperate.”

“At the moment, Augustin manages those types of inquiries. He already worked similarly at the scale of cities, it wouldn’t be that much different to train a team for the French government.”

“Well, they really wanted you guys, but I will pass on the advice.”

“Until Lexi is fully healed, we will not take any such engagements.”

“Yes, of course, I understand.”

***

Several days after the offer by the French government, it was time to remove Lexi’s bandages once and for all. Once her face became bare, she rubbed it.

“ _It’s good to be free of this thing_ ,” she said.

Her eyes were still shut.

“ _Do you want to try to look around?_ ”

She caressed her eyelids carefully, with just the tip of her fingers. There was no swelling left and just the faintest irritation running down the stripes on her temples. Where the water and silver had run down as the doctors flushed her eyes.

“ _What if I still can’t see?_ ”

“ _Then I will see for you._ ”

He tipped the image of the living room in the Bond.

“ _I like what you’ve done with the place._ ”

Her pupils moved behind stubbornly closed lids. He pushed her hair behind her ears and caressed her cheeks.

“ _Beloved, open your eyes._ ”

She held onto his fingers then blinked very slowly. The hazel eyes focused on him. Her pupils were dilated and as they adapted, the left one contracted but the right one stayed open, giving the impression it was now a darker color. Lexi put a hand over each side of her face in turn then her gaze veered down. She was crestfallen.

“ _The left one is fine but on the right…it’s dim. Like I’m watching you between the threads of a dark cloth._ ”

Quinlan forced an encouraging smile on his lips. She did not need his disappointment adding to her own.

“ _Look at me, Lexi. You might still need time to heal._ ”

She nodded, and he knew she could not agree with words because they would be untrue. That night they sat in front of the cold hearth and having postponed this conversation far too long, he asked her what she desired for their future. They had funds and properties to reclaim. It also seemed her native country was amenable to welcoming them.

“ _I’m not sure. Even if we do go there or to Italy, or to England, we’ll always have the same problem._ ”

“ _Blood_ ,” he said.

“ _I don’t think we will gain true freedom until we fix that issue._ _I don’t even know that we can fix it at all._ ”

“ _Before the Fall, one could buy blood on the black market. Unfortunately, the contacts I had in Europe are long dead._ _Acquiring it by any other means than donation would grant us the status of pest to be exterminated along with the Strigoi. In time, black markets will arise again and when that happens, we might rely on them as I did in the past._ ”

 “ _Yes…I guess you’re right._ ”

Then she observed him and as she did he too was getting accustomed to her now mismatched pupils. She could see again and it was all that mattered. He considered telling her now. What he had done to that man. This was what he had promised himself he would do. But then, he had counted on her regaining all of her sight. So he told himself that he would reveal that secret either when she had completely healed, or when she had finished grieved for that loss.

“ _You would be entitled to say ‘I told you so’,_ ” Lexi said.

He had been lost in his own thoughts, and it took a few seconds to understand what she was referring to. Lexi was talking about his warning against meddling in human affairs.

“ _Why would I do such a thing?_ ”

“ _Because you were right. You were right about a lot of things, and I get it now._ ”

“ _I get no satisfaction from this._ ”

“ _I know you don’t. I just want you to remind me of this in the future if I disregard your warnings again._ ”

Quinlan doubted he would ever abide by that request. He was certain she would regret not doing the right thing more than being punished for it. Lexi picked up the only book resting on the mantelpiece then sat between his legs and against his chest. Finally able to see them, she traced the golden letters of the title and author’s name, _Meditations_ by Marcus Aurelius.

“ _Can you read it again?_ ” she asked.

Then she smiled, and he knew she would be alright. He pulled her tighter against his chest then opened the book. _Together_ , they would be alright.

 

***

They did not avoid sunlight that day once it arose. With her sunglasses, she peered outside from the window-doors. Birds were coming back from their winter retreats, and she had enticed them with seeds. When she began purring softly, sitting crossed legged on the wooden floor; he took a book along and joined her. He was reading _A Tale of Two Cities_ again.

She was growing sleepy, and he wanted to propose going to bed when she sat straighter. Lexi jumped to her feet, crossed the room and as she did, bumped into the table with her right hip. She swore.

“ _You will need a little time to get used to your limited field of vision. I’ve known plenty of warriors who learned to manage._ ”

Lexi appeared too focused to reply. She dug through drawers whose contents were still unknown to her.

“ _Quinlan, do you know where my laptop is?_ ”

“ _In the bedroom closet._ ”

“ _Thank you!_ ”

She tossed her sunglasses on the couch then ran upstairs. Quinlan was quite satisfied to see her use her Dhampir speed once more though she tripped and growled as she reached the first floor. When she came back and began working on her computer with intense concentration, he observed carefully. He did not want to give her any indication that he was hopeful, or even that he had noticed what she was doing. It might make her stop somehow.

Days later, the dinner table was covered with printed pages. Many of the words on those sheets had Latin or Greek origins and from their amalgam, Quinlan concluded that she was researching how to grow blood outside of a human body. It seemed like an impossible task but Quinlan had to remind himself that there was a time in his life he would have laughed at the idea of soaring through the skies like a bird. Completely engrossed in her research, she sometimes needed reminders to eat and sleep.

“ _Quinlan! Come see this.”_

Abandoning the library he was building in the garage, he wiped his hands to remove the wood dust then joined her in the living room. She showed him an internet page that listed a series of names and their accompanying pictures.

“ _What is this?_ ”

“ _I wanted to see if the researchers whose work I was reading were still alive and…Joseph Alaster, the Librarian, made this. It’s a list of scientists, politicians, and others. You can check if they are still alive and if they can continue their work. It’s brilliant really…a way of forming new research teams.”_

_“Have you found the people you were looking for?”_

_“Yes, they are all dead. They were blood specialists, and I guess their expertise made them too dangerous but that’s not why I called you…”_

She typed a few words in the search bar and Quinlan leaned over her shoulder to read them. It was her name. At the top of the results, they could read:

**Seigneur, Alexandra, Ph.D. Animal behavior, animal physiology, cellular biology, endocrinology, reproductive sciences, immunology. DECEASED.**

On the right was her face. The quality was grainy and it looked unofficial, as though cut from a larger picture. It made him uncomfortable. Her demise was not something he liked imagining.

“ _The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,”_ she said and chuckled.

“ _It doesn’t bother you?”_

_“Oh no, this is for the best. And this is not me anymore…Alexandra Seigneur died in that bunker.”_

Now that she had acknowledged herself the work, she had started, he thought she might be amenable to speak about it.

“ _If those people are dead, do you see yourself finishing their work?”_

“ _It’s far from my area of expertise but they were practically finished. The Master would have spared himself a lot of trouble by letting them continue. But obtaining blood was not his only goal. At the time of the outbreak, they had been conducting trials. Injecting blood they had grown in vats into humans to test its effects.”_

From the latest articles spread on the table, he had gathered as much.

_“It sounds encouraging,”_ he said.

_“It is…with just the right push, one could resurrect this project.”_

_“I always found you quite gifted at pushing.”_

Lexi ignored his teasing and bit into her thumb pensively.

“ _I’ve found something else.”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Since the Master’s death, blood donations worldwide have been at an all-time low. People die every day from ailments that would have been easily remedied with a transfusion.”_

_“Humanity as a whole has been traumatized by those events and it is understandable that parting with blood would now stir negative feelings.”_

_“Yes…and with this research, this might become a problem of the past.”_

He racked his fingers through her silvery hair she leaned onto it with a purr. Quinlan was not surprised that this would give her another motivation to revive this project. It made him proud of her in fact, though he did not believe humanity, as a whole, deserved her help. But a few select humans did and she had been neglecting them for far too long.

“ _If you are feeling better, what do you think about returning to New York? Trainees from Seattle need some sense scared into them. At least that’s what Augustin told me._ ”

“ _I would prefer to stay here. It would not be prudent to go back._ ”

Quinlan disagreed with her. Though her eyesight required her to slow down at times, there was nothing stopping her from teaching again. In fact, nothing stopped her from returning calls and texts from her only friends.

“ _They are all worried about you. Maybe you could use your new phone…_ ”

“ _I think all of them should worry about their own selves and families. They are the fragile ones, not me._ ”

“W _hat…_ ”

She shut her laptop with more force than necessary.

“ _Please, don’t ask me again,_ ” she said and rushed to the window doors.

Before she stepped outside she hesitated.

“ _Is…is Emma alright?_ ” she asked.

For a moment he considered not answering her question. If she truly desired that information, she could contact Laura herself. Lexi misinterpreted his silence and turned to him with horror on her face. Quinlan now regretted prodding her boundaries. It had been gauche and patronizing.

“ _She is well and enjoys school once more._ ”

Lexi leaned against the window and he could tell she was biting back tears. _Look what you’ve done, you idiot._ In a heartbeat, he crossed the room and embraced her, whispering apologies until she relaxed.


	30. The Rise

 

When Quinlan departed to retrieve their blood rations she did not accompany him. He suspected she was avoiding Nigel as well.

A small booklet slid out from the usual newspaper. It was colorful and ridiculous. Quinlan stared at the comic for an entire minute, attempting to comprehend what drivel this was. Red letters covered half the cover and spelled: “SUN HUNTERS OF NEW YORK CITY, book one.”

Underneath the title spread a drawing of half a dozen people in combat gear only vaguely reminiscent of the actual clothes the real Sun Hunters wore. On their necks were tattoos of a sun at least ten times larger than the real ones. Quinlan flipped through the pages and his frown grew more intense.

After many of his battles in the Roman army, people had told tales of their victories and much of their stories had been romanticized versions of the actual events. This was not different and just as irritating. When a familiar face appeared on the glossy paper, he stopped flipping mindlessly. He cringed at watching his depiction but then when Lexi’s appeared, he was torn. They had made her too tall and broad-shouldered, but the eyes somehow were hers. Quinlan placed the booklet back inside the newspaper and quickly forgot about it.

“ _What is this?_ ” she asked the next day when the comic book fell from the folded newspaper.

Only Quinlan still read the news. Her only interest laid in the scientific work of dead people. She only used the paper to start fires in the hearth.

Quinlan, who had been in the process of rewaxing his denim pants stopped and put down the tub of melted wax.

“ _Nigel left that for us…I’m unsure why_.”

She made herself comfortable on their new couch and read the short comic. Quinlan picked up the wax again but his attention was on her and the rustling of paper.

“ _Oh my God…They called you Quentin…and I’m Ollie. This is hilarious._ ”

Quinlan emitted a non-committal grunt. As she went on the silence was only broken by her snorts and brief laughs.

_“We are depicted as ruthless soldiers in there. Mysterious and old. Unable to understand computers or any modern technologies. How would that work? Can you imagine trying to function if you cannot change with the times?_ ”

“ _It would have been quite impossible to remain an effective warrior, indeed._ ”

“ _Exactly! So about that email address…_ ”

Quinlan growled, and she gave him a mocking look from across the room. He was still spreading the wax with a clean cloth when she stood beside him, holding the comic open to a particularly large depiction of their fictional counterparts.

“ _Do you mind if I frame this and hang it above the hearth?_ ”

“ _If you do, I shall use it for kindling.”_

She burst out laughing and when he frowned her laughter only intensified. She wiped at her eyes which were tearing up. Quinlan grabbed her by the waist and attempted to take the comic from her. She screamed in delight and held it out of reach, stopping his attempts by kissing him until only her lips mattered anymore.

***

The next evening when he dressed to pick up their blood rations, Lexi asked him to wait. She took a piece of paper and wrote:

“Our teeth are not that pointy and we can use computers quite well. Besides that, I quite enjoyed your comic.

Lexi.”

On an envelope, she scribbled the name of the author and the publishing house’s address then put the folded letter inside.

“ _Oh please do not encourage him_ ,” said Quinlan.

Lexi looked at him with suspicion.

“ _I believe I will go with you today…in case you are tempted to lose my letter on the way.”_

***

 A week later she plopped on the couch next to Quinlan and put her computer on his lap. She appeared displeased.

“ _Is that your letter?_ ” he asked.

Eponymous to the author of the comic, the website looked simple and unprofessional. In between snippets of the artist’s life, there was a picture of his hand holding the letter as well as a caption.

“Which one of you assholes sent me this? I almost pissed myself when I read the signature.”

The comments under the picture were quite unanimous: this was a hoax, a fake meant to scare the author.

“ _Why should it be so terrifying to receive a simple piece of mail from me?_ ”

“ _Their image of us simply is not reconcilable with that of people reading…well, his work_. _Perhaps he was afraid that if you actually took time to read it, it would offend you._ ”

“ _Maybe you are right_.”

She closed the website page and later from the corner of his eye, he watched her hold the comic over the trash bin. Then instead of throwing it away, she tucked it out of sight in a drawer.

* * *

 

In their bedroom the small window only let dim light pierce through. Lexi still hated the light but with it, her right eye was not completely useless. When Quinlan did not see, she would stand in front of the large mirror hanging on the closet door and cover one eye after the other. He had been wrong. Time had had no effect on the state of her vision. It was not a surprise, so she was not disappointed. This was the new normal now.

From the closet, she took a fresh set of pajamas. Her eyes landed on a box in a corner, rested a moment, flew away. It was a brand new cell phone. She threw a shirt over it so that her resolve would remain intact. Lexi recalled the thought which had flashed in her head as the grenade rolled at her feet.

_The people you love will die for the sole crime of standing by you._

And the man who had done this was still at large. Perhaps even the same who had cut into those collaborators. Lexi liked to imagine that it was. That way, only one person out there contained that much hatred that could fall on her dear ones. Though she still did not condone Quinlan’s violence the day he had plunged a needle in her neck, she understood _why._ It was fear and love. He had been correct, associating with monsters was a dangerous activity for humans. So painfully _mortal_ humans.

“ _I have noticed a felled tree some way away. I will see if I can retrieve it before dinner_ ,” said Quinlan.

The remark pulled her away from the unpleasantness of her thoughts.

“ _What kind of tree this time?_ ”

“ _An ash. It’s quite sturdy which I believe is no longer a luxury but a requirement._ ”

His amusement seeped through and stretched her lips into a shy grin.

“ _Alright, the sun is still low, I will work a little._ ”

Lexi threw her pajamas on the bed then strolled lazily through the long corridor leading to the stairs. In between doors hiding unused rooms, the walls were covered with drawings she had made during their time in New York. She tried not to think that by now, Angela and Emma did not look like their portraits any longer. Too much time had passed. Angela had once been about as interesting as a loaf of bread but now, she could walk and speak. A little person.

Lexi climbed down the stairs with a steady gait. She did not trip often anymore. Especially inside the house.

She worked for a short time before the incongruous sounds of an engine bounced between the trees. Nigel had not made the trip to their house in several months and they had no special deliveries bound to arrive. Casually, she reached for her sword in the umbrella stand by the main entrance door. Just in case.

“ _A car is coming,_ ” she told Quinlan.

“ _I know, I met them on the edge of the property._ ”

“ _Why didn’t you tell me?_ ”

“ _They asked me not to._ ”

“ _And you obeyed them?_ ”

“ _They had sensible arguments._ ”

Lexi pinched the top of her throat where her growls had started. She lacked practice in suppressing them.

“ _We’ll have a chat about it when you come back. It will not be pleasant,_ ” she said.

The car parked in front of the house and both Gus and Raul emerged from it. Her sword made a loud clunking noise when she forcefully dropped it back into the umbrella stand. With appreciative nods, they detailed the house. It was tempting to refuse them entry. Or even better, let them have a go and visit the house as they pleased while she ran out through the garden. Lexi did not like being ambushed. But the wave of relief at watching them approach was greater. She had missed them so dearly. Merely seconds after their arrival she had discerned several swears words. She opened the front door just a crack then walked away.

When they got inside, she had already switched on the kettle to make coffee. The men closed the door behind them, and she scowled.

“Remove your boots, you savages,” she yelled from the kitchen.

“I told you,” said Raul reproachfully.

Their footsteps retreated which gave her time to gather the piles of printed articles and put them away.

“I don’t know what I expected…,” said Gus when he entered the living room.

“More guns. I expected more guns,” said Raul.

“Yeah, and swords. Above the chimney. And no TV.”

Lexi chuckled, abandoned the tray she had been preparing and rushed toward the hunters. She hugged them, an arm around each of their necks.

“So this is how I die,” said Raul in a strangled voice.

She loosened her grip but did not let go. They smelled of gun oil, leather and on Gus the faintest trace of baby powder. Raul relaxed, and Gus rubbed her back gently when she sobbed quietly between their shoulders.

“Hey Lex, come on. Quinlan will kick our asses if he knows we made you cry,” said Gus.

Lexi snorted, let go of their necks and beamed at them.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asked.

“Frankly, we were wondering if you were dead and Quinlan did not want to tell us,” said Raul.

He was joking, but Lexi felt the underlying truth of it. She returned to the kitchen, wiped her face on her sleeves and brought the tray. Then she gestured at them to sit down and dragged an ottoman closer to the table. They only had two chairs for the moment. Gus and Raul’s clothes and general rough appearances clashed wonderfully with the décor.

“He said you could see but…,” said Gus. The sentence was left suspended and he scratched his brow to mask his discomfort.

“Not very well on the right. I get by,” she said with a dismissive gesture.

As if it had not broken her heart to realize this.

Raul reached for a biscuit and bit into it gingerly. It was noisy in the awkward silence and Gus stared at him. Raul shrugged and finished it.

“Yeah I can see that,” said Gus. “And don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy you’re okay but…”

His dark eyes bore into hers, recognized their altered aspect and shifted down.

“Frankly, I kinda imagined you were crippled. That was the only scenario that made sense. I thought you were worse than when you came back from Mexico. When you looked…”

“Haunted,” finished Raul.

Gus nodded. It was almost unbearable, their clear disappointment.

“So yeah I’m a little confused. No news, no nothing. And then we still have to train a bunch of assholes by ourselves. And with Eva in France…”

“What? Why is she in France?”

“Well, if you had checked the news, you’d have noticed the outbreak there. An entire building quarantined when some Strigs got in. Two hundred people infected and euthanized,” said Gus.

“We sent your team there. They’re working hard to make sure this shit never happens again,” said Raul.

Lexi’s stomach filled with acid. Now she regretted her avoidance of the news.

“Are they okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Nothing like New York at its worst. Nothing those guys can’t handle,” said Gus.

“But that’s not our main problem at the moment,” said Raul.

“Yeah, right now Mumbai is a fucking mess. And we don’t have time to train people for them. We have to contain it now, or India is toast.”

“You’re going? Who is going with you?”

“All of us. All the available teams. In two days. Your team will fly directly from Marseille and join us there. Even the Chicago hunters are tagging along since their city is officially Strig free for a month now.”

“You missed that party. It was wild. I think I’m still hungover,” said Raul.

She grabbed at her stomach which was more and more uncomfortable. People would die there. Her friends would die there.

 “So yeah. We came to tell you that if you wanna join, there are two seats on the plane with your names on them.”

“I…”

Would it be any different than it was in New York? No one but the hunters needed to know the Dhampir were there. She shook her head. A few hateful humans were not more dangerous than an infested city. With unknown geography to boot.

“You have two days to decide,” said Gus and he downed the steaming coffee.

“In the meanwhile, there are people out there who still want to hear from you. And they ain’t driving here just to do that,” said Raul. He unzipped his pocket and struggled to take out a thick bundle of letters. The stacked envelopes slid on the smooth wood and at the very top, she recognized Aanya’s handwriting.

“Eva couldn’t leave one herself so she just asked that I tell you: If you’re not ok, get better and come back. If you’re ok, fuck you for not being back,” said Raul.

Lexi made a wry face and Raul leaned back and lifted two hands in a defensive gesture.

“Hey! She said it, I’m just passing it along. I don’t agree.”

“I do,” said Gus.

Lexi folded her arms and avoided his piercing eyes. She did not blame him though it hurt.

“I had good reasons to stay here,” said Lexi.

“And now you’ve got good reasons to get out of here,” said Gus. His voice was strained by repressed anger.

“¡Cálmate, primo!” said Raul.

“No, couz’, this ain’t the moment for polite bullshit. I thought I knew you, Lex. When Zach lied during the trial and my phone rang, I knew it was because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut about it. And when that grenade blew and you made it, I was sure you’d parade in the streets as a huge _screw you._ That you’d show those pieces of shit that you were gonna continue on just like before because they’d never manage to scare you away.”

Lexi could not get angry at him. He was right. She had been scared away.

“And don’t tell me you can’t get all the hate. People have been looking at me funny for a long time. Doesn’t mean I was gonna let them rot with the Partnership and get sucked dry by Strigs. Sometimes you gotta help people even if they don’t like it.”

Raul looked horrified and his gaze jumped from Lexi to Gus. Gus’ chair rattled as he stood.

“Thanks for the coffee. We’ve got to head back. Lots of packing to do,” said Gus and he walked away. She expected him to slam the front door on his way out but he didn’t. Raul patted her shoulder briefly and followed his cousin.

The noises of their car faded away and she remained sitting. Timidly, she reached for the letters then removed the plastic tie binding them.

“ _How long have you been standing there?_ ” she asked.

The garden doors slid open and Quinlan stepped in.

“ _Since they arrived. I beat them here by seconds._ ”

“ _You agree with him?_ ”

“ _I disagree with the harshness of his words. They undermined how much you suffered. But his ultimate conclusion that you cannot stay away forever, I share._ ”

“ _Are you disappointed in me as well? For letting fear guide me?”_

Quinlan’s hands enclosed her shoulders, warm and reassuring.

“ _No_.”

She grabbed his hands, squeezed.

“ _How bad is Mumbai exactly?”_

“ _It is very densely populated and as we speak, thousands of Strigoi terrorize its inhabitants. Thousands more are turning as we speak because the army there cannot keep up. Refugees attempt to flee and many fear infected people hide in their midst so they are turned away and sent back to the city._ ”

Lexi leaned back and looked into his clear blue eyes.

“ _Would you be disappointed in me if I refused to go?_ ”

“ _If you still need time to heal, no. If you never plan on returning out there, then yes. You once told me I should care more about human lives. Now I care about those people and whatever you choose to do, I will go and help them._ ”

She smiled.

“ _Good thing I had already decided to go then._ ”

Quinlan deposited a soft kiss on her forehead.

“ _Read your letters, I will start packing._ ”

Most were quite short. Wishes of good health from Sun Hunters. Laura’s and Aanya’s covered several pages. In the latter, there were clues as to the extent of Gus’ anger. All were difficult to read.

At the very bottom of the pile, she found an envelope which was not addressed solely to her. The handwriting was that of a stranger and so was the name. When she flipped it, the back was stamped with the words “Kent University”.

“ _Are you done packing?_ ”

“ _Yes, we’ll travel light_.”

“ _There is a letter for you as well. I have no idea what this is. From some university in Europe. I didn’t even know they had managed to open them already._ ”

There was a little small and hard object inside. As she tore the paper open, Quinlan arrived and peered above her shoulder. A USB stick fell on her palm, and she kept it there, almost frozen as she read the letter with puzzlement.

“ _Mister Quinlan & Madam Lexi,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Forgive the intrusion into your well-earned retirement but as a historian, I cannot resist the temptation to contact you, eye-witnesses to the period I studied for the past twenty years. You will find enclosed the electronic versions of my works. I humbly ask that you critique them for any inaccuracies. In addition, my few surviving colleagues and I have written a manuscript recounting the events of the past years. We feel strongly that you both deserve a say in what is to be published._

_I hope to hear from you, but I will understand if I don’t._

_Best regards,_

_Prof. Ciara Morecci._ ”

Quinlan took the USB stick and walked away. But she ignored him because she could not break away from that letter.

Five times she read the lines, written carefully with a fountain pen on thick paper. It was a little bent in one corner where pressure had pushed the USB stick against the page. When she finally looked up, Quinlan stood by the printer. On the screen of her laptop was a list of files and the last one was simply named “STRIGOI”. He was printing the first volume. She observed as he took the first pages, gave them a cursory glance, snorted and took a pen to scratch away at the barely dried ink. Quinlan turned to her holding a sheet out as if to share a funny joke.

“ _What is wrong?_ ” he said when he saw her expression.

“ _Nothing. It’s so mundane…she wants reviews for her work. I used to review other’s works all the time._ ”

She laughed.

“ _It was so boring! But now the prospect sounds…wonderful._ ”

She put down the letter but still stared at it. Quinlan wiped away the tears which still strolled down her cheeks.

“ _Why are you crying, beloved?_ ”

“ _Because you don’t ask monsters to review your books_.”

 “ _No…one would probably not attempt such a thing._ ”

That evening, they read through the first volume, and her heart swelled every time Quinlan would smirk or outright laugh. Soon, his own neat handwriting covered margins and the narrow spaces between lines.

***

Lexi wore her deep hood and elected not to uncover herself even as she and Quinlan stepped in the small shop a few blocks from the Sun Hunter’s headquarters. At the counter facing the entrance, sat a young woman with bright pink hair. She ignored them and continued reading her comic book while chewing on some gum.

“ _Good gods, there are so many of those things…_ ” said Quinlan as he looked at the shelves covered with tightly packed comics. He turned to the vitrine by the door filled with figurines.

“ _There was a time when gladiators were depicted in much the same ways…_ ”

Lexi picked up the latest adventures of the _Sun Hunters of New York_.

“I heard this shop belongs to the author…” said Lexi as she slid the comic on the counter.

The pink-haired girl glanced at it and nodded.

“Want it signed?” she asked.

“If that’s not too much trouble.”

“ANTON,” She screamed.

In the back an exasperated voice replied,

“What?”

“Someone would like you to sign your latest comic,” she said. Each of her words dribbled with sarcasm.

“ _Not even the people selling them enjoy those books_ ,” said Quinlan.

“Continue screaming like that in front of customers and I will fucking fire you,” whispered Anton.

He dragged himself in the store, looking at his feet then as soon as he glanced up, froze in place. Regaining some of his wits, he shoved his employee who seemed about to shove him back until she spotted Quinlan. Only his back was visible as well as his hood. His harness and sword were his only distinguishable features. The bubble she had been blowing burst and blue gum spread over her chin.

“Would you mind signing it?” asked Lexi and she pushed the comic toward Anton.

Their eyes detached from Quinlan and focused on her. Anton was a thin and sickly looking man with greying curly hair, despite his young age.

“Of course!” he said in a high-pitched voice.

And with a shaky hand, he signed the glossy paper of the cover.

“Do you accept silver?” asked Lexi.

“Yeah…most of New York still does…”

Lexi opened her coat and their eyes zeroed in on the handle of her sword. She pulled a clip of bullets out of her hip pocket and extracted a single round which she put on the counter. Carved on its side was the Sun Hunter sigil.

“Would that be sufficient?” she asked.

He nodded so hard she thought he might hurt himself. She pocketed the comic.

“I heard this was to be the last issue…is that true?” she asked.

“Yeah…the story ends when New York is clear of Strigoi.”

“Does it now? Too bad…” she said and removed her glasses and hood.

“I am quite sorry if I scared you with my letter, it was not my intention.”

The man opened his mouth, and a pathetic squeak escaped him. The pink-haired girl elbowed him.

“It’s fine!”

“I’m glad to hear that. Have a nice day,” she put her glasses and hood back on and in a blur both Dhampir left the store and crossed the street to reach a mailbox.

Quinlan dropped in the package containing annotated pages addressed to Professor Morecci. Once their shock faded, the pink-haired girl and Anton started yelling. Lexi focused on their words and peered through the vitrine.

“Holy crap on a cracker!” said the girl.

“Find…find the surveillance feed or no one is going to believe us!”

“Even with it, no one is going to believe us!”

“Damn it, woman! Do as you are told for once!”

The Dhampir looked at one another, smiled then made their way to the Sun Hunter headquarters. Gus was waiting for them, and they had a plane bound for Mumbai to catch.

***

Slicing Strigoi was no longer at the forefront of Lexi’s mind. After the height of the Indian Strigoi outbreak, she found herself obsessing over the project she had left behind. When the thirst burned the back of her throat, and when they received bags of precious donated blood, she would be reminded of the articles gathering dust on the living room table. It took two whole months to create a modicum of order in the streets of Mumbai.

As soon as they were satisfied the cleaning effort would continue properly, Lexi and Quinlan returned to Greystone. The nominal summer had come and passed in their absence. There had been a few days where the real sunlight, not the orange glow, lasted for at least four hours. According to news from Laura.

Her mind bustling with ideas, Lexi finally sat down to work. Pretty much every scientific project started with a research proposal. If she wrote it decently enough, one of the very few universities already open might accept to pick up the project. In the header where she should write her name she hesitated. Should she hide her identity? The idea of publishing a research article as simply _Lexi_ was laughable. She racked her brain then, planning on replacing it with something more sensible later, she wrote _Lexana de Pierregrise._ Then laying down on the pages everything she had already planned in her mind was trivial. In fact, she had never drafted a document so quickly though she suspected her grasp of the subject was shallow.

Then using the website the Librarian had created, she selected a group of three scientists whose expertise, even if not a perfect fit, might still be crucial. She emailed the file to them. It was nerve-wracking. But all she could do was wait for an answer.

“ _What are you making?_ ” she asked Quinlan when she joined him in the garage.

She did not know why they persisted in calling it that way. It was clearly a workshop now. The wood he manipulated was still uncut and rough.

“ _I will make a few chairs._ ”

“ _Can I help?_ ”

“ _I would love for you to assist but…aren’t you busy?_ ”

“ _I just finished. I need to wait for them to answer._ ”

“ _Are you nervous? I’m sure your proposal is decent considering the effort you invested in drafting it_.”

“ _That worries me but also how they’ll react when I eventually tell them who I am._ ”

Quinlan put down the measuring tape he had been using.

“ _How did you introduce yourself then?_ ”

“ _I told them my name was Lexana de Pierregrise and that I used to be a scientist in an unrelated field. I mean, they’ll quickly figure out I don’t have any publications under that name but that beats scaring them before they even read the proposal._ ”

“ _Lexana?_ ”

She shrugged.

“ _Somehow I didn't imagine Dhampir parents five hundred years ago naming their daughter Lexi._ ”

“ _I like it. It suits you._ ”

Then maybe she would not discard the name after all. And he had himself changed names over the centuries. Maybe she would also get used to it. Quinlan picked up another plank and while she held the tape straight, he marked the wood with a pencil.

They worked in silence, not needing to share words to cooperate with this simple task. When dawn broke over the forest, they packed the tools and returned inside to dine before bedtime. After they slid under the blankets and she nuzzled the naked skin of his chest, he sighed.

“ _Perhaps you might aid me in another endeavor tomorrow?_ ” he asked.

“ _Sure. What is it?_ ”

“ _Professor Morecci chastised me the other day when she learned we have access to the internet. She assured me my penmanship was a delight but even though we studied past history, we did not attempt to remain a part of it._ ”

Lexi snorted and propped herself onto her elbows to watch his face. Quinlan uncovered his teeth in warning which only added to her amusement.

“ _I like her style,_ ” said Lexi.

She _needed_ to tease him about it.

“ _Perhaps I could figure it out by myself. I’m sure it’s not complicated,_ ” he said with a faint growl.

“ _No! No! I want to help you! I mean I’ve been wanting to make you an email address since the internet came back._ ”

“ _You want to help me so that you may laugh at my expense._ ”

“ _Well yes, obviously. But not just because of that._ ”

“ _You little vixen._ ”

His arms were suddenly around her and he peppered her neck with kisses and gentle bites.

***

Lexi’s newly formed team of biologists had obtained a federal research grant to start their work. Then before they received a single penny of it, they were informed that the U.S. government did not wish to fund them after all. She was not particularly surprised that this retraction took place just after the funding agency learned that she was a Dhampir. Her first impulse had been to bow out of the project and let the others carry on. Quinlan would hear none of it.

“ _How much would such a thing cost in the end?_ ”

They stood at the living room table where her laptop showed the offensive email.

“ _Millions. Ten, thirty million?_ ”

She let herself fall onto the nearest chair. The despair she had felt after her eye injury crept back up. Once more, others would suffer because of prejudice directed at the Dhampir.

“ _A reasonable investment. I’ll have the funds transferred to our American accounts._ ”

She gawked at him.

“ _When you said we had money, I had not realized…_ ”

“ _We have enough to live comfortably for several lifetimes. To be fair, we have very few expenses at the moment._ ”

Lexi jumped to her feet, laughed and hugged him.

“ _Let’s do this._ ”

* * *

 

The world slowly healed but some events still chocked Lexi, but not Quinlan. A law passed in the USA and soon other countries imitated it. It stated that people could be acquitted of murder if they killed a collaborator who had wronged them, in a fit of rage. All the defense needed was proof of the collaborator’s past as well as proof that the murder had not been premeditated. With the Strigoi Collaborator Personnel Database, that task was easy. Every citizen who had ever assisted the creatures in any manner was cataloged.

 

The Dhampir observed from a distance as things changed, mostly in the right direction. They traveled often as Sun Hunters, then sometimes anonymously when Quinlan wanted to share sights of the Old Continent with Lexi. When alone on their land, they had millennia worth of memories to share and experience together. In that Bond of light, they found peace.


	31. Chapter 31

**PART 2: Born of a dark being**

****


	32. The disappeared

**2800 B.C.**

_The queen fled through the trees and the cursed thing followed. She cried out in anguish when it struck, leaving a bloody welt on her shoulder. But she escaped its grasp and ran on. When a river blocked her way, she plunged into its tumultuous waters. On the shore, the thing screamed and paced. She swam fiercely because she had to live. For her people and for her unborn child._

* * *

Quinlan dreamt. It was obvious as soon as he stepped out of the trees’ shadows. They lined a familiar cobbled road. In dreams, the false sunlight never burned. It gently warmed his skin. On the horizon, the hills and vineyards were blurs, like an impressionist painting. Were he to explore further, the details of this imaginary world would solidify around him. He had done it at times, just to see how intricate it could become.

It had dawned on him recently that the ability to control one’s dreams was uncommon. After Lexi had asked if he missed Europe, Quinlan had explained how he often visited his native Italy and sometimes summoned people from his past to talk to. Her answer had been “You do WHAT?”

While she sometimes noticed she dreamt, she could not influence their course. But Quinlan could, for most of his long life.

Fifty years after their deaths, Quinlan met Tasa and Sura at will. They had been his first motivation at acquiring this ability. Then his pragmatism had taken over.

Mostly, he would use dreams to hone his skills in combat or war tactics. Training was training, whether in dreams or in body.

Quinlan picked up a stone which he rolled between his fingers. Looking, smelling or feeling helped stabilize his dream and assert his control. It had taken a great deal of time to achieve that level of proficiency. Still, the dream could slip away.

Today, he would practice opening his mind further. It frustrated him how he still lagged behind Lexi in that regard. He blamed peaceful times. His quest was over, and some of his drive for perfection had fanned.

For this practice, he elected to summon a guide. It was always the same person. It had been for two thousand years.

“Mother?” he called.

“Quintus.”

He turned around. Ancharia grinned. The intense sun reflected in her grey hair. When she appeared, it was always in the clothes she wore the night of their first encounter.

“You have neglected your training,” she said, surprised.

“I have. Would you like to know why?”

“I cannot imagine a valid reason behind such frivolity.”

This version of Ancharia did not know of his success. Her level of knowledge changed between her appearances. Quinlan failed to understand why. This time her ignorance was agreeable. Who did not enjoy sharing good news?

“Because the Master is dead. Defeated forever.”

Ancharia covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Her eyes turned shiny.

“Oh, my son! You did it! You slew the beast!”

Ancharia hugged him. Quinlan marveled at the warmth of her body and the scent of olive oil in her hair.

“We did. It’s over and we won.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much.”

“You taught me so much, could you help me once more?

“Anything! What do you wish to know, child?”

“I cannot open my mind as much as I wish.”

“I see.”

She took his hand and the countryside melted, replaced by a silver world. His own soul lied ahead and Lexi’s next to it. Everything shimmered with their light.

“Yours is brighter but captive. A firefly in a glass bottle,” said Ancharia with a nod.

Lexi’s soul rippled and danced, free. His was tightly enclosed within a transparent armor.

“How can I break the bottle?”

“You wished it here, simply wish it away.”

“If it were that simple…”

“Oh, but it is that simple. You haven’t done it yet because you are afraid.”

What could that possibly mean? She was part of his mind, so she couldn’t be mistaken.

“You let your light shine through and the feeling terrifies you. It feels like falling. You are scared of breaking once you reach the bottom. As _she_ did.”

Ancharia gestured toward Lexi. Quinlan scowled.

“She is not broken.”

“I said she broke, not that she is still broken. Pay attention, child.”

The tone, soft but full of authority sent him into a whirlwind of nostalgia. Those dreams were wonderful. Those dreams were horrible. Her face turned gentle.

“You love her, don’t you?”

“More than anything.”

“Then why do you hide things from her?” she whispered.

A man appeared behind her. Sprawled on a concrete floor, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. Quinlan knew him because he had killed him. Ancharia peered at Quinlan’s face like a mother would look at a disobedient toddler. He took a step back.

He did not wish to continue this. Quinlan shut his eyes and the dream disintegrated. He awoke. It was not fleeing since this was not really Ancharia.

His Strigoi senses informed him that the sun was still high. Lexi slept deeply, undisturbed by his malaise. He preferred keeping it that way and attempted to fall back asleep. Her cell phone emitted a shrill sound. Lexi slammed her hand on the device then grunted when it rang on.

“ _This was not the alarm, someone is calling you,_ ” Quinlan said.

She dragged the phone across the nightstand then her pillow. The glow of the phone made them squint. The screen was now shattered but still functional.

“Ha crap…not again,” she mumbled.

Gus’ name was barely visible between the cracks webbing across the glass.

“Gus? What’s happening?” she asked after taking the call.

She slurred her words from sleepiness.

“Yo…Did I wake you? It’s business hours ya know? Not very serious if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Screw you.”

He laughed.

“We’ve got a mission. It’s one of those collab settlements. Argentina this one. They had just started building stuff so it’s just a handful of people. They didn't give news for the last three checkups. This morning, their families went to find them. They cracked their car windows open, smelled ammonia and hightailed the fuck out of there.”

Due to constant persecution, which had turned systemic after the passage of discriminatory laws, collaborators of the Strigoi regime sometimes chose self-exile. They built villages in remote areas with elaborate anti-Strigoi protections which required considerable preparations. Healthy and capable settlers arrived first and more vulnerable members of their families followed. Lexi looked at Quinlan and grimaced.

“Hey, Gus…I’m sorry but…”

“No,” he said instantly.

“I’ve got to be at the lab tomorrow…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s not something I can postpone.”

“Fine… _fine_. You gonna owe me for this one again. What about Q?”

Quinlan took the phone. Lexi buried her face in her pillow, and he stroked her back.

“The locals say there are caves nearby, a whole maze of them. We think they hide in there. A damn death trap.”

“Are those caves mapped?”

Gus had a sardonic snort.

“Not even a little.”

“I can still manage by myself and Eva can take Lexi’s team. When do we depart?”

“In six hours. See ya.”

He hung up which prompted Lexi to bury her face deeper.

“ _He will forgive and forget eventually. Not that there is anything to forgive. Having both of us for such a simple mission is redundant,_ ” said Quinlan.

“ _He is so pig-headed…last time I missed a mission he called me ‘ma’am’ for a week._ ”

“ _Perhaps I should miss missions more often…”_

Just a week prior Gus had called him a “snarky stuck-up party-pooper”. Whatever that meant.

Lexi looked at him with one eye and her cheek rounded from a smile. Of course, she would remember as well. It had been a source of great hilarity.

“ _I guess I should get ready and leave with you if I don’t want to run to New York_ ,” she said and stretched out of bed. They had only one car.

“ _We still have plenty of time…if I drive_.”

The mission might take anything from two days to a week. It sounded short and in the scope of his lifetime, it was laughable. But every second out of each other’s light felt like an eternity. Quinlan gently pulled her back to bed.

****

Raul was quiet and grave after he picked Quinlan up from Manhattan. He should have been sharing the details of the mission and the plans he had no doubt already devised with his cousin. Something was bothering him, and Quinlan detailed his face for a clue. Unshaven and dull-eyed, the Sun Hunter formed a sorry picture.

“You are distracted,” said Quinlan.

“Yeah, you can say that.”

Quinlan would not ask for more. It did not appear like the issue was relevant to the mission. It was likely a personal matter.

“Eva and I broke up. She wants kids and I don’t. T’was mutual but shit it still sucks.”

There was a moment of silence. Lexi would have described it as ‘awkward’. She also would have encouraged him to support Raul in this trying time. Humans liked to have their choices validated.

“It sounds to me like you both made a sensible choice. Procreation is not a subject that allows for compromise.”

Raul looked at him in complete disbelief then burst out laughing.

“Are you kidding me? You’re the one who actually gets it. Everyone from Gus to my fucking mailman thinks I’m an idiot, and I should just have a kid with her because I would end up liking it anyway.”

His lips rose in disgust.

“What kind of fucked up advice is that? Like what if I don’t end up liking it? I can’t return the kid, can I?”

“No, I do not believe there is such a thing as a return policy on offspring.”

“Thank you! They all act like I’m some kind of monster. And I want to scream at them that they are the messed-up ones.”

Quinlan did not want to encourage Raul’s ranting but this last point picked his curiosity.

“How so?”

“Those guys from Iceland…you read their report? Yeah, so they say we won’t get rid of the Strigoi at this rate. Except if we make a vaccine. And the handful of brainiacs left say it won’t happen. I’m not having a kid if there is a single chance they might end up infected and then they’d have to swallow a fucking pill and I’d have to hold their hand while they die. Or worse.

“They would not swallow that pill and they would turn and I would have to hunt them down and look in the face of my kid, with their brains too scrambled for them to understand who I am. Then I’d have to kill them. Like when Lexi killed Amir. I’m not doing that.”

“You think the others irresponsible for not having such considerations?”

“You bet your ass I do. But I’m not gonna tell them that. Would be social suicide.”

Raul shook his head.

“And I get it, you know? I love Angela, and I would die for her but she ain’t even mine and I worry all the fucking time.”

Quinlan worried about those humans as well. And above all, he worried about the Sun Hunters. But his fear was different. Humans did not expect to bury the children they loved while he lived with that certainty. He worried their ends might come too early or too painfully. Quinlan considered his fellow Hunter under a new light and with more respect.

“You know Amir would have been twenty-five tomorrow?” asked Raul.

Lexi had told him, but he found it too crushing to keep track of such anniversaries. Should he maintain that habit, his entire year would be spent grieving.

 

The airport was almost empty. Few New Yorkers were willing to leave the safety of their city. After the first checkpoint, Raul and Quinlan waited in the quarantine area for two hours. In that room, the walls were covered with various instructions and information. Posters gave advice on avoiding Strigoi abroad (staying inside at night, avoiding forests and countrysides etc…). In a corner, a smaller placard showed the faces of collaborators on the run, including the two doctors who had so far escaped their execution following the Manhattan trials. The larger posters encouraged travelers to report any person showing symptoms of infection to the dedicated hotline of their destination countries. Such telephone numbers were listed underneath.

Raul took this time to share all that he knew about the mission. Seventeen men and two women were missing and drone sweeps had found nothing. The locals would direct them to the caves but were instructed to remain put for the moment. Quinlan agreed with that order. It would be stupid to send humans to their deaths when this was a trivial task for him.

Nurses came with U.V. lights. Unsurprisingly, Raul was not infected and they did not attempt to check Quinlan for worms. The flight would last fourteen hours and to prevent Raul from opening up about his _feelings_ once more, Quinlan extracted a book from his pocket.

“Watcha reading?”

“A Tale of Two Cities.”

“Dickens, huh? A bit modern for you, no?”

Quinlan looked up, mildly surprised Raul knew about that novel. Then he read on as Raul took out a familiar comic book from his bag.

“You read this drivel as well?”

“Lexi is right you know, this is tight.”

* * *

Their New York apartment was small, but the simple decoration made it feel bigger. Though the population in the city had decreased dramatically after the Fall, real estate was still rare despite laws promoting their availabilities. Buildings close to the blast of the atomic bomb had been deemed too structurally unstable and were being demolished one by one. Other flats and houses still required thorough decontamination. No one wanted another plague because a worm had managed to survive in a carpet.

Lexi waited for opening hours by watching TV. Since Quinlan did not care for this form of entertainment, she took advantage of his absence to enjoy shows. Some of them had laugh tracks, and she could only imagine the judging looks Quinlan would have given her. It was soon time for her to go.

The neighbors often rushed to their doors to watch her leave. She pretended she could not hear their hurried steps and their breathing when she locked her door and made her way to the elevator. It was time to abandon this flat. Humans here had grown too curious. Perhaps this time they could find something more isolated. She would insist on it.

A delivery man grunted a hello without looking up from his phone when the doors slid open. Somewhere after they passed the tenth floor he must have looked up because his heartrate became deafening. She also ignored him.

A few years ago she might have attempted a nod or a smile, but she had since learned it was pointless. Adults stared or attempted too hard not to. Children old enough to have seen Strigoi sometimes cried and once a very old woman had fainted.

Fortunately, Lexi could drive from her building parking lot to the one in her office of her company, Lifeline. Her assistant welcomed her with a pile of papers to sign. The red circle logo of the company and its name, _Lifeline,_ was printed on each page.

“Could you get me a replacement phone and send this one out for repair?” she asked.

She took her sim card and memory card out of the phone before handing it out to him.

“At this point, you might want to consider buying screens in bulk.”

“Or they could make them sturdier.”

“I doubt anyone is making anything of this brand at the moment. The prices increase all the time.”

“Thanks for the info. Look up if there are any companies making phones and get me one of those.”

It was a common problem. Qualified workers and infrastructure were used for essentials and as long as old electronics were available from the pre-Fall times, resources were rarely spared to produce more. For her own company, it had also been a struggle. Most of their equipment during the first year had come from local universities whose labs were deserted. Three-quarters of the staff working with this equipment had been trained on the job.

Things were finally running smoothly. Now they were producing blood locally in other countries. Today a German envoy had come to open another lab in Munich. They had the equipment and needed cell cultures and know-how.

Lexi stood behind a two-way mirror, a small microphone against her cheek. The receiver was tucked neatly in her employee’s ear and hidden by her thick dark hair. Her name was Claire. The prospective client entered and they greeted each other then sat on each side of a large desk. Humanity was not ready for a Dhampir selling blood.

“So you are interested in opening a production facility with us…” said Claire with an impassible face.

“I believe there’s been a mistake.”

The man smiled without any sign of confusion. Lexi decided she did not like him.

“You’re not interested in buying blood? We don’t sell anything else,” said Claire without returning the smile.

“We are interested in all of Lifeline. The entire company.”

He took out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and deposited it ostensibly within Claire’s reach. She didn’t acknowledge it.

“It’s not for sale.”

“My employer has the infrastructure to produce and distribute blood to half the world.”

Lexi rolled her eyes. The half of the world in question being the one that could pay _generously_ for it.

“It changes nothing,” said Claire as she got up and pulled down on her blazer jacket.

“Your unwillingness to expand this enterprise kills people.”

Claire tilted her head and Lexi stopped herself from growling.

“What we’ve done so far has saved plenty, and we‘ll continue doing so by ourselves.”

“Make him leave. You don’t need to be polite,” said Lexi.

“By coming here under false pretenses, you wasted your time. Worse, you wasted _my_ time. Security is on its way.”

Lexi chuckled. Unless Claire had telepathic powers, no one was on their way. The man shrugged, tossed a card on the desk and strutted out of the room. He did not linger in the building but he also did not rush.

Claire sat back down, undid her tight bun and kicked off her shoes.

“We were preparing for this extension for weeks. You should eat him.”

“I cannot eat people just because you don’t like them.”

“Not with that attitude,” she mumbled.

Lexi removed the earpiece and returned to the office.

“Let’s hope the next one isn’t a capitalist pig,” Claire said as she picked up her shoes.

“I’ll close the file and join you at the lab when I’m done.”

Lexi took the card and sat down. It was the man’s name and number as well as the name of his company, Axatus Inc. and its symbol, an infinity loop. She shoved it in a drawer on a pile of dozens of such cards. Lexi ground her teeth. Quinlan had gone on a mission without her because of a dick who thought he could make money on the backs of the sick. She opened her laptop and searched for the next flight for Argentina. Only the next day.

At that time, the Sun Hunters would be at the mission site in the middle of nowhere. Possibly already finished. Today would be another day of boring lab work and phone calls. She held her head. It felt so empty. Of all days to be alone, this one sucked. Lexi took a deep breath and went to work.

***

The Belvedere Castle’s exterior had changed since the Master’s head had rolled on its terrace. The Mayor had converted it into a museum about the Fall. Or rather a warning that betraying one’s race would not be forgiven nor forgotten. The only “frivolous” spending authorized by the city’s administration.

With a handful of flowers bought from a nearby vendor, Lexi strolled the path leading to the open-air theater. As the sun set, the clear skies were more golden than ochre. Facing the pond, slabs of granite stood erect. The names of the fallen were etched on the stone. Those who had fought the Master but not lived long enough to see victory. The list was not in alphabetical order. On the first stone at the very top, she read the name Abraham Setrakian. Followed by Dutch Velders, Vasily Fet, Nora Martinez, and Ephraim Goodweather. Next to the names were holes just large enough to accommodate the stem of a flower. When she knew the name, even vaguely, she deposited a white rose. When she reached the last name, a stone weighted her stomach. She spoke to him in her mind, and she imagined the words forever lost in the silver place.

“ _Happy birthday._ ”

She could almost hear Amir laugh at her. Others were coming and she left before fearful humans could spot her.

Lexi needed to run an errand then she could return to Greystone. There was no way she would face Gus without an apology. And those worked better in the form of a gift.

Lexi seldom shopped in New York. She also took care to never do so with any regularity or discernable pattern. At every gate leading to the city and at the main exit at the airport once could read the city’s motto: “New York, safest city in the world.”

And it was true by any measure. Little to no crime, no homelessness, and above all, no Strigoi. But Lexi had not felt safe in the city since the Manhattan trials.

Only a handful of people roamed the supermarket when Lexi entered. She made a detour in the aisles to avoid them and reached the back shelves. Bright red and with random goods carefully displayed. Some were secured down with chains, others were attached to bulky anti-theft devices.

Lexi had noticed with the years that while Gus shared liquor or wine readily with other Hunters, there was a bottle he didn’t. In a state of drunken cheerfulness, he had shared how his mother had given him his first drink on his eighteenth birthday in the form of cherry liquor and coke. Of course, it hadn’t actually been his first drink but still. Every birthday, they toasted with it. By Lexi’s estimate, Gus had two birthdays worth of cherry liquor left, and the coke was long gone.

After calling half a dozen shops, this was the only one still stocked with those products. With a satisfied grunt, she grabbed the bottles. Finding the perfect present was always a thrill.

Only one person stood at the cashier’s desk and she waited with her head down. Under those lights, even with her hood and her tinted glasses, people would notice her skin if they paid attention.

“That’ll be 75 dollars,” said the cashier, a young man, with an empty expression.

“But no…I used my food card. This is all food.”

Lexi sighed quietly and took a step back. This would take a while. The cashier rolled his eyes and pointed at the groceries.

“Green labels go on food cards but not blue or red ones. If you put back the steaks and the pancake mix then you’re golden.”

“But…”

“Look, you can either pay for those or put them back. There is no haggling here.”

“Fine,” he said and tossed the two items toward the cashier. Then lower he added “stupid commie system.”

The cashier looked at him with the wounded pride of a New Yorker.

“You can go back to Chicago and starve with the rest of them.”

The customer turned bright red, almost swelling from his anger. Until the security guard walked by as if taking a stroll. After scanning the food card once more, the total fell to zero dollars but a warning appeared.

“Are you aware this will max out your card for a week?” said the cashier in a rehearsed tone.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Are you aware your choice of items lacks sufficient intake of a vital nutrient?”

“That’s ‘cause you took my damn steaks.”

The cashier clicked another button and a table listing vitamins popped on the screen.

“We advise you to consider switching to the iodine enriched bread or including serving of seaweed salad. Both those items are currently available here, for your convenience.”

“Fuck you,” said the man and left with his groceries.

“Charming,” whispered Lexi.

For a moment the cashier nodded in agreement until he looked at her face. He made a strange strangled sound, but still scanned the items.

“It’ll be 205 dollars,” he said. “Please.”

His voice was suddenly high-pitched. She paid and left quickly. With a stone in the pit of the stomach, she rushed out of the city.

* * *

The situation perturbed Quinlan. Details stood out as soon as they reached the cave.

Its entrance formed a wound in a wall of sharp stone and bled a trickle of water. The Sun Hunters stayed behind and stared at the wet sand with similar apprehension. The soil stretched undisturbed, save for Quinlan’s boot prints. For good measure, he closed his eyes and focused. Sterile water and the mineral scent of old places. In the depth of the cave, the rushing of an underground river. Strigoi could not inhabit that maze and he would not risk venturing deeper.

“Is there another entrance?” asked Quinlan as he returned to the hunters.

“The locals say that’s the only one,” said Gus.

“They _assumed_ the villagers were gone but I doubt they searched their houses thoroughly. If their first idea is that Strigoi are suddenly able to cross streams, I’d think twice about trusting their every judgment.”

Raul waved over their local guide and asked him in Spanish if they had searched the village. He looked at them with incredulity.

“Ni en pedo,” he said. He maintained a good distance between him and Quinlan.

“What did that mean?” asked Quinlan, unfamiliar with the expression.

“Don’t know but it doesn’t matter, we’re gonna check anyway,” said Gus.

Then he grumbled about “weird-ass vanishing Strigs”.

 

A dozen houses surrounded a hangar. The buildings nestled within the confines of high fences surmounted by U.V lights. The gate hung wide open. The Sun Hunters divided into units to search the habitations. Piles of beams, bricks and power tools stood by most. Half the buildings lacked windows. One didn’t have a roof.

Quinlan squinted despite his sunglasses and hood. Sunlight fell mercilessly on his head. In the distance, a chain of mountains appeared almost as blue as the sky. Not a trace of civilization as far as he could see. The vegetation was sparse but the settlers had had no intention of cultivating the ground classically. Even with more regular sunlight than up north, indoor farming remained more reliable.

The teams emerged from the houses empty-handed. Unsurprising. The ammonia scent was diffuse and he could not hear the savage sounds produced by Strigoi.

Only the hangar remained unsearched.

“Get the spikes,” he asked a Hunter.

For Strigoi hiding in soil, they used javelins coated with silver. The hangar reminded him strongly of the lowest level of the bunker. It smelled of wet dirt and fertilizer but not of sap. They had not yet planted anything. Soil filled half a dozen elevated beds deep enough to accommodate trees. And slumbering Strigoi.

Eva and Raul’s units had the spikes. It satisfied Quinlan to see them work together without a trace of awkwardness. When he glanced at Gus, he could tell he was making the same observation. Quietly, a dozen hunters spread and lifted the metal spikes above the black dirt. The rest stood at the ready with carefully aimed rifles. Quinlan also prepared, wounding up his leg muscles and drawing his sword.

Eva and Raul looked at each other, and she raised one finger, then two then three. At that mark, the Hunters stabbed down as one. The spikes pierced the soil. Quinlan tensed, his gaze sliding across all the visible earth. Nothing happened.

_Strange._

Gus pinched the base of his nose and exchanged a look with Quinlan. He slashed at his own neck with his hand and Quinlan nodded.

“Listen up, guys! Pack all the gear except for the drones. Marcus, we do a last sweep, I’ll drive.”

The Hunters just as disappointed as their boss returned to the SUVs and loaded back all their equipment. Marcus tweaked with his drone by the jeep.

“You can smell them, right?” Gus asked.

“I do but only in the settlement and its repartition is unfocused. Rather unusual.”

“This shit ain’t right.”

“Agreed. I will investigate the houses.”

Gus departed with Marcus. The buzzing of the drone soon crisscrossed the clear sky.

The houses were Spartan and all identical. Merely blocks of wood and concrete built for safety without any regard for aesthetics. Inside each finished house, he found signs of struggle. Broken furniture, smears of dried blood already swarming with flies and the diffuse stench of ammonia.

Something about the blood also bothered him. He could not put his finger on the exact reason until he reached the kitchen of the last house. There had been a fight in there. The table was broken across the middle and the floor spattered with the remnants of an uneaten meal.

Quinlan ignored those distracting scents. He followed a faint trail and found his target under the fridge. Without much effort, he tossed the piece of furniture aside. Underneath, he found dust, more spilled food and a thin metal cylinder the size of a battery. It ended in a vicious barb covered with blood. The probe of a Taser.

Quinlan brought the object up to his nose. Now he knew. This was what he should have been smelling until now. Pure human blood, this one O negative. In the other houses, the blood had been what he expected from a bag. Old blood with the tinge of a mild anti-coagulant used for preservation. He had spent so long consuming such treated blood that his nose had grown accustomed to the perfume of the drug. Quinlan put the probe in his pocket and went back to the SUV. He hailed Raul.

“I need a UV lamp.”

Raul, without question, rummaged in one of the trunks and tossed him a heavy torchlight.

Quinlan returned to the kitchen and closed all blinds. He switched on the lamp and the purple glow filled the room. Fluorescent yellow specks covered the floors and the lower parts of the walls. Strigoi guano. Like a mist. It made little sense for a Strigoi to release its waste that way. It also made little sense for Strigoi to use weapons on their prey.

“Call Gus and tell him to come back,” he told Raul as he handed him the UV lamp back.

“You found something?”

“I found evidence that no Strigoi ever stepped inside this settlement. This is a simple case of human on human violence. Not our problem.”

“What the fuck?”

He showed him the Taser probe. Eva stared with keen interest.

“I don’t recognize the brand. Must be a new one,” she said.

“Someone sprayed Strigoi guano inside the houses as well as bagged blood. This was staged.”

Eva made a wry face.

“You think someone didn’t like the idea of collabs living the high life?”

“A highly trained and resourceful someone then,” said Quinlan.

“Yeah, so they won’t ever find them and if they do it’s gonna be in tiny pieces.”

“Possibly, but it does not involve us.”

When they informed their Argentinian guide, he was relieved.

“So there are no Strigoi here? It’s safe?” he said in Spanish with an accent that made it difficult for Quinlan to follow.

“Yes, but you might want to call the police since…” said Raul.

“Of course,” said the guide insincerely.

“Give them this,” added Quinlan and he handed the probe which the guide took reluctantly.

He held the object as if ready to toss it away as soon as he was free of their gazes.

“We’ll call in a few days to check that you do,” said Raul.

The guide waved impatiently and after more pushing from Raul, promised to inform the local authorities. Quinlan doubted the investigation would amount to anything. After all, who cared about a handful of missing collaborators?

***

Quinlan was not in a pleasant mood when they landed in New York. None of the Sun Hunters were. They dragged themselves out of the plane and toward the luggage retrieval area. No satisfaction of a job well done counterbalanced their fatigue.

“Maybe I should just retire,” Gus said after sipping at a cup of cheap coffee bought in the airport.

A few white hairs peppered his temples and looked away. By human standard, Gus was young, merely in his thirties. By Hunter standards, he was well within his rights to quit and enjoy a comfortable pension.

Of the Sun Hunters who had celebrated the cleaning of New York, few remained. The crowd of Hunter attracted looks, friendly nods, and a few cheers. Quinlan cared little for such attention but it helped his human companions.

When they made their way to the parking lot, they stood straighter. Quinlan took the wheel and Gus sat in the passenger seat while in the back Raul and another Hunter snoozed.

“Will you? Retire?” asked Quinlan.

“Dunno. I always feel like that when something goes to shit. Let me finish my coffee. When my brains start back up, maybe I'll know.”

He raised his cup and took another sip. When Quinlan pulled up in front of the Sun Hunter headquarters, he could not feel Lexi within the city. Quinlan checked his phone. She had gone back to Greystone as her work deal had come short. On the last line of her text, she wrote,

“If you focus I'm sure you would be able to see me from New York.”

He borrowed a car then left the city. The canals running through the streets had been decommissioned threes year after New York’s clearing. It was dark but the streets were bright and bustling with life. It was always jarring when they traveled to other cities. In most of the world, humans stayed inside their homes at night. Most shops opened and closed depending on sunlight hours.

New York was free of those concerns. While here humans felt safe, it did not change how hideous those buildings and streets were.

He stopped in a deserted road still hours from Greystone, cut the engine and used the silence of the countryside to look within himself. Dream Ancharia’s words distracted him for an instant but he succeeded in pushing them away.

Lexi had told him to find the door that would lead to the silver place. But its doorknob was round and smooth and slippery. The whole exercise frustrated him. Through this door, he would be able to _see_ but most of the time he didn't. He simply attempted to relax until he felt warm all over. When he did that near her then he felt her as though touching her with invisible hands.

He tried both. Failed at the first then also at the second. He tried again until the frustration made him growl. It was pointless. Quinlan took the road again.

When he reached the familiar forest of Greystone, he still could not feel Lexi. He was surprised since at that distance the Bond should have been back. The deeper he drove, the more his surprise morphed into worry.

“ _Lexi?_ ”

There was no answer because she was not there. But her car was. When he entered, her bag sat in the entrance.

The wooden floor of their bedroom creaked. He focused on that sound and found another. A heartbeat. Someone was in the house. He tried again to find the Bond and failed. 

This was his home and someone had violated it with their unwanted presence. A burglar? Or someone with more nefarious intentions? His thought went to the terrorist who had almost blinded Lexi.

Quinlan growled lowly, unsheathed his sword and ran up the stairs. A body smashed into him and his sword left his grip. As they tumbled down the stairs in a mess of limbs, Quinlan noticed several things.

White hair, inhuman strength and the perfume of limes with a sweet finish. Their fall ended abruptly as they collided against a wall. Both jumped to their feet in an eerily similar fashion. She stared at him with wide eyes and he gawked back. It made no sense.

As though in pain, she touched her temples and shook her head. She looked the same, smelled the same but she could not be here because the Bond was not. Their _home_ , the real one, the only one that mattered, was gone. If he had been able to vomit, he’d have done so.

“How?” whispered Lexi.

 

* * *

The woman tossed a piece of paper on the table. It was a police report in Spanish.

“They were sloppy. This can’t happen again.”

“If this new formulation works, there won’t be any need for more subjects,” said the man.

“You actually think we are going to find a formulation that works?”

“Well, yes…you don’t? Why the hell did you accept this then?”

“Because I was tired of hiding and if another rich idiot wants to waste his money on this wild goose chase, who am I to refuse?”

He shook his head.

“If we manage we won’t need to run. It would dwarf the invention of vaccines or the discovery of antibiotics. We could help peop…”

“Shut up. Don’t give me the _help people_ crap or I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Fine. But at least tell me you understand this is our way out of this mess.”

“I do, I also think it’s not the _only_ way out.”


	33. Out of the light, into the unknown

Lexi showered to rid herself of the stench of the city. Then she read, cozily tucked in her blankets. At some point, she fell asleep, her book forming a tent above her chest.

The slamming of a car door woke her. She frowned because this was not Quinlan. Whoever this was entered the house, and she jumped out of the bed and listened. Then because she did not want to meet that person in the confines of her bedroom, she flew toward the stairs and collided with him. Her brain was overwhelmed by dissonance.

This was clearly Quinlan. But it was not. She was screaming his name in her mind and the words sounded flat. They were not going anywhere. He could not hear her. The Bond was gone. His expression exacerbated her anxiety. Quinlan was as lost as she was.

“How?” she whispered.

She sighed when he touched her and his skin was rough and familiar. His arms around her were almost crushing.

“Are...are you hurt?” he asked.

“No. You?”

Lexi did not feel better that he was already looking for a solution. It only highlighted how clueless they both were. What good were two thousand years of experience in such a situation? He knew as much about the Bond as she did. And she knew very little.

“I am unharmed.”

“There...there must be a reason this is happening.”

Quinlan buried his face in her neck.

“We will fix this.”

His words were a little muffled and she wanted to cry because in the Bond, they always rang clear.

“There are only so many reasons the Bond can be disrupted,” she said. It was just another problem to solve. And together they had solved the impossible. They could do this. They had to.

“There is distance...” he said.

“Dense metals...”

He stood straight and alert.

“The jamming devices.”

“What? They don't work like that.”

“You deducted that we function on another plane...another frequency than the Strigoi. We could even perceive the original devices. Is it such a stretch someone might have modified them to produce this effect?”

“I really don't see how or why.”

Quinlan let go of her and drew his sword.

“With such interference, we are distracted… weaker. Perhaps whoever did this was not expecting my return to occur quite so early.”

It made sense. Lexi strained to listen to the sounds around the house. Mice, deer, birds, a few squirrels fighting nearby. No humans.

“I don't hear...”

“It does not mean they were not here. The range of the devices is limited, but they could be lying in wait on the edge of our perception.”

And with those words, he rushed outside and lifted his face to the breeze. Lexi imitated him and picked up irrelevant traces near the cars. Quinlan disappeared between the trees and she followed, hopeful. Had he detected something she had not? In those matters, he still had the advantage of his considerable experience.

Then he veered, one time then two then three and her hope died. He was not following a trail, his changes of direction appeared random.

After almost one hour, he stopped. His sword fell on dry leaves and his shoulders slumped. She could not feel him, but she was not completely blind.

“I don't know what to do,” he said.

His voice was hoarse and suddenly the possibility that the Bond might never be restored hit her.

“Quinlan…If we don’t find it...”

He winced. She took his hand and faced him. His eyes were fixated on a point on the ground, unseeing. Lexi knew that expression. He was looking for the silver place. If he unleashed his soul to surround her, its warmth didn’t reach her.

“I’m sorry, I failed. Please, try to find it,” he said still looking at the ground.

Lexi couldn’t bear his looking away. She reached for his face, caressed it, begging. Quinlan arms snapped around her. His hand dug into her hair, pressed her face against his chest.

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

His heartbeat was familiar. Calming. Anchored by his familiar music, she plunged into herself.

Lexi opened her mind’s eyes, intact in that realm. She stood in the house that was her psyche. On her right, the plain wall used to be the entrance to a dark basement.

She faced the front door and ran to it. It was locked. So she pulled and kicked and even pleaded, but the door remained locked. Then she ran to the nearest window and pulled the curtains open.

There was no window, only another wall. She checked another curtain and met the same light green tapestry.

Lexi was the problem. The silver place was out of her reach, not Quinlan’s.

She opened her real eyes.

“I can't find it. I mean...it's blocking me. The door there is locked. I'm the one who changed. What did I do wrong?”

“You cannot be sure it's anything that you did. This is not something that ever existed before. We are wholly ignorant of its inner mechanisms.”

She mumbled how scared she was, but she wasn’t sure he could hear her.

“Lexi…I loved you without the Bond, and I will continue no matter what happens.”

She believed him but his absence in her head left a crippling abyss. For just a moment, she needed that pain to go away.

So she kissed him. In between those desperate kisses, she whispered words of love that now needed to be passed from lips to lips.

When they fell on the damp and uneven forest ground, she didn’t care. It only mattered that when he pressed himself inside her, the ache in her soul was forgotten.

After that moment, they continued kissing until her lips felt bruised, because that also dulled the emptiness.

They stayed on the rotting leaves, tucked inside Quinlan’s coat, until rain forced them back inside the house. Lexi wanted to drag him to bed and sleep. But Quinlan had other ideas.

He stood in the middle of the living room, dripping on the hardwood floors from the rain, seemingly lost in thought. Lexi knew better than to interrupt.

“The book might have answers,” he said and started toward the stairs.

She followed closely.

“What?”

“The Occido Lumen.”

She had not thought about it in years. Quinlan yanked open the metal trunk sitting in a corner of their bedroom and took out a wooden box. Inside the box, the pages of the Occido Lumen were bound together by string.

“I thought it was just a bunch of allegories and stories about Strigoi hunters.”

“When I translated it with the Professor and by myself, I focused on mentions of the Master and the Ancients. I only glazed over those that were not useful. But this would be the only place containing knowledge about our kind.”

The velum was yellowed by time but the illuminations still brightly colored. She recalled a conversation on their first encounter.

“There were others before you? You think they are mentioned in there?”

“I recall explanations about the silent voice of the Master. Perhaps we can find similar texts about the silent voice of the half-breeds.”

“They could have shared the Bond, if they met.”

“Indeed.”

He shed his harness and coat, dried himself and unbound the pages. Lexi did not have the desire to smile but it was close. If there were any clues to be found, Quinlan would have them sooner or later.

“Let's get to work,” he said.

Lexi assisted where she could. Mostly by waiting until the sun shone bright and high to take pictures of the hidden scriptures. As he studied the texts, she associated the pictures with their translations. She made three piles, one for the useless ones, another for the ambiguous ones and one for those whose content was unknown and possibly useful.

This took four days. When he was not working, she listened to his retelling of the contents he had just translated. That night they drank their lab-grown blood in front of a roaring fire.

“In the 9th century, a village on the coast of France became deserted in the span of three days. The author describes how strangers came with weapons and dug out the villagers from a nearby beach before killing them and burning their bodies. Those strangers never showed their faces as they wore hoods and masks.”

“Sun Hunters? Cleaning up the Master's mess?”

“So it seems.”

This story would join the pile of useless anecdotes.

“It highlights a particular point that has been nagging me,” said Quinlan. “The book is supposed to be a translation from Sumerian, from tablets found in Mesopotamia in the 16th century.”

“Yeah...unless whoever made the tablets was a time traveler, there is a problem there.”

“The author added much more than what the original texts contained. However, if I learned anything from my travels is that much is lost in translation.”

“You want the tablets?”

“I do. A primary source of information is always most valuable.”

“Where are they?”

“Destroyed by a French king when the author showed him those heretic writings.”

Lexi scowled. What was the point then?

“The Occido Lumen was also ordered destroyed,” he said and had a small grin. “One can surmise that whoever saved the book might also have saved the tablets.”

He seemed so convinced, she could not tarnish his excitement with her pessimism. Lexi could not afford to base her hopes on mere speculations.

“Where would we even begin to start looking for those things?”

“Where they should have been destroyed. In Paris.”

Her stomach dropped a little. She had not been back in that city since she had been human.

“Professor Morecci's connections could open doors in that milieu,” he said, finished his glass of blood and picked up the phone from the wall.

Lexi glanced at the time. It would be ten in the evening where she lived. Calling at this time might seem a little rude. But Morecci picked up after only two rings.

“Mr. Quinlan? How unexpected!”

This was followed by small talk that Quinlan generously indulged. Then he cut to the chase.

“I need help tracking a Mesopotamian tablet. It surfaced around 1667 in Paris and ordered destroyed.”

“That’s vague.”

“It might have last belonged to Madame de Montespan.”

“Now that’s better.”

“I’m sorry to say this but it is a matter of great urgency.”

“We are historians, for us there is no such thing as urgency.”

“Ciara, _please_.”

“Do you remember what we discussed last year?”

Quinlan rolled his eyes. This strange behavior would have amused Lexi in less problematic circumstances.

“Fine. I’ll do it. You drive a hard bargain.”

“Not really, you’re just unusually stubborn about very small things.”

“When would that be then?”

“I will let you know. Maybe Reykjavik.”

Quinlan sighed, wished her a good evening then hung up.

“What was that about?” asked Lexi as soon as he put the phone down.

“The professor has attempted to obtain my services as a speaker for those _gatherings_ with her colleagues.”

“A conference, you mean? Why did you say no?”

“I am not a zoo animal.”

“They would come to hear you speak not to throw peanuts at you.”

Quinlan grunted and this time she could not help but laugh. It also dulled the emptiness.

***

The next day, they received a call from the curator of the Louvre Museum informing them they were welcome to examine their collection of Mesopotamian tablets. It was fortunate, since they were about to embark a plane bound for Paris. Quinlan had not considered the possibility of a refusal.

Inquisitive eyes followed them everywhere from the moment they entered the airport, until they sat in their first class chairs. They were blessed with a professional flight attendant who did not even flinch at their appearance. The other passengers ogled and whispered.

“Beverages?” she asked and leaned forward.

“No, thank you,” said Lexi.

Quinlan shook his head and the attendant walked on.

“You usually have a coffee at this point,” he remarked.

“I don't feel like it today.”

Several hours into the flight, two boys seating ahead of them still observed. Their heads poked from the sides of their seats and fascinated eyes followed Quinlan and Lexi's every move. Quinlan ignored them and focused on a troublesome passage of the Occido Lumen.

Signs of the author's madness were becoming more numerous. When he looked up, the boys still stared but much more quietly. A long and thing object protruded from the side of the seat in front of Lexi. It was an amalgam of straws, taped together into a lengthy stick. Its tip poked Lexi’s knee. She slept and didn’t notice. Quinlan sighed, and hailed the flight attendant. Intervening himself would likely involve the children screaming and crying. No need for this raucous.

The attendant confiscated the stick with stern warnings, and apologized quietly. Quinlan only wished for Lexi to rest. He hadn’t even notice when she had finally fell asleep.

Her hands twitched and her eyes moved rapidly, but he could not hear her dreams. It was tempting to lean back in his seat and let himself be submerged by their loss. Quinlan sat straighter and resumed his work. Self-pity did not solve problems.

Le Louvre had once been a royal palace built over the span of eight centuries. Quinlan had not visited Paris often across the centuries, merely a dozen times. But with each visit, he had witnessed the erection of yet another luxurious addition to the monumental palace.

Had this been travel for pleasure, Quinlan would have loved describing this remarkable endeavor to Lexi. At night, the city of light had not yet found itself. The streets were deserted, and it took lengthy negotiations for a taxi driver to take them to the museum. They stopped in front of the eastmost façade of the palace, an entrance exquisitely sculpted and divided by thirty-four columns. In the center, the large wooden doors opened and a tall black man ushered them inside.

“I am Jean-Pierre Abenon. Welcome to Paris.”

His accent was very thick. Quinlan shook his hand, much larger than his. When Lexi did the same, her tiny fingers were engulfed within his grip. When he spoke again, she had a vague smile. The historian took them to the secret and unseen parts of the buildings. There, beauty was replaced by the practical, with concrete and innumerable shelves. Under the Richelieu wing were stored the antique treasures not currently shown to the public.

“I took the liberty to start a little,” said Jean-Pierre as he rolled up his sleeves. “Here is a list of artifacts that could have belonged to Madame de Montespan.”

He gave them a binder containing a hundred pages. Each sheet represented one tablet and a summary of its history. Quinlan lifted a brow and exchanged a look with Lexi. She mouthed a quiet “wow”.

“Do you know Rabbi Avigdor Levy? He was a scholar executed by Louis XIV.”

“I’m afraid I don’t. How is he involved?”

“The tablets would have belonged to him beforehand. It doesn’t matter, your initial research is of tremendous help. Thank you.”

“Initial being the operative word. Please check what I gave you, and I will continue looking,” he said. He directed them to a desk with several uncomfortable chairs. Jean-Pierre trotted from shelf to shelf before returning to his computer. He repeated this dance over and over again with no sign of slowing. From time to time, he smiled to himself and printed another page.

Quinlan and Lexi poured over the considerable list. Those that were accompanied by a brief translation were easy to discard. None of them spoke of bloodsucking creatures. Most were bills, or simple letters. The desk was soon covered in neat piles arranged by Lexi.

“Here are the ones that are a definite no. Those are a maybe and those are really interesting.”

The first two nights they spent trimming away the tablets that were certainly useless. When they returned the third night, Jean-Pierre waved them in and positively ran toward the stairs leading to the basement. He babbled the entire way.

“I have found something that might be very useful to you! I’ve been sitting on that all day.”

“Jean-Pierre…when do you sleep?” asked Lexi.

“I had a few hours today. I don’t need much, never have. That’s why I work nights.”

“What have you found?” asked Quinlan.

“Trash. I found trash.”

“Excuse me?” said Quinlan.

Intrigued, they approached the desk on which a metallic chest rested. It was the size of a shoe box. Quinlan’s heart lept.

“Is that…?” asked Quinlan.

“It must certainly is.”

“Why did you call it trash?” asked Lexi.

“Well…”

Jean-Pierre put on gloves and carefully opened the chest. Lexi made a pathetic sound, and Quinlan wanted to scream in frustration. The chest was divided into six compartments filled with sand and loose stones. On closer inspection, letters that he now recognized as Sumerian were engraved on the largest fragments.

“Oh…I guess you wanted them intact…”

Jean-Pierre scratched the back of his head. There was a page tucked in the lid of the chest and Quinlan took it. The historian seemed to want to protest, then thought better of it. The paper stated the king had ordered the destruction of the Occido Lumen and six clay tablets.

Quinlan stared at the remnants, as though his gaze could reverse time and bring the pieces back together. He had been so convinced that the answer was there. That something in those strange etchings would bring back their home.

“That’s bad luck but you still have the seventh to work with.”

Both Dhampir turned to him as one, and Jean-Pierre startled.

“After you gave me the name of the person who possessed them before their destruction, I found proof he bought the tablets in 1606. It mentions seven tablets.”

“Where…”

Quinlan could not finish that sentence. Was it lost as well?

“The six tablets have peculiar compositions unique to the region where the clay was extracted. And there is only one other with the same composition…”

Jean-Pierre took a page still waiting in the tray of the printer.

“It’s in Cairo but it’s… _weird_.”

Under the picture of the tablet, there was a paragraph which included the word “gibberish”. The tablet was written in what appeared like Sumerian but besides the first line, nothing made sense.

“I don’t want to be touting my own horn but _technically_ , I am the foremost specialist in the Sumerian language and this…”

He pointed at the page clutched in Quinlan’s hand.

“…is not it.”

“How is that possible?” asked Lexi.

“I’m not sure...Sumerian is not written like English or French, it’s closer to Japanese kanas. The symbols represent syllables. I see a pattern. It’s not random. But it doesn’t fit anything found in that region at that time, or even right now.”

His large smile was back.

“I like a challenge so…just give me time.”

“We don’t have time,” whispered Lexi.

“The tablet is 3000 years old, hardly news…” he said with a shrug.

_Those historians_. Quinlan closed his eyes and stopped himself from punching him. The man did not know, and he _was_ _helping._

“How long do you think this would take?” asked Quinlan.

Jean-Pierre’s gaze shifted from Lexi’s gloomy expression to Quinlan’s closed fists.

“It took decades to decipher Sumerian last time but…I have tools my predecessors didn’t have. If you hoped for an answer during your stay here huh…I’m sorry but that’s not realistic.”

***

During the flight back, Quinlan finished studying the Occido Lumen and found nothing of value. He did not tell Lexi. She rolled onto herself, staring at the carpeted floors. There was nothing else to do.

Lexi was sound asleep as Quinlan drove them to Greystone. When they arrived, she did not wake. Quinlan kissed her brow, where her stripes split toward her cheeks. Then he carried her inside and tucking her in bed. Exhausted, he hugged her, breathing in her loose hair then authorized himself to sleep.

He stood in a Parisian street, and carriages pulled by horses passed by him. When he looked down he did not wear the suit he expected but the rough cloth that had been his first garment. The sun did not burn. Another dream. Across the full street, Ancharia smiled.

“Mother?”

“One of them.”

She smiled and walked away. Quinlan’s mouth fell open and he forced himself to wake up. With a jerk, he opened his eyes and reached for Lexi’s shoulders.

He wanted to kick himself for being so unfathomably dense.

“Lexi…wake up.”

She grunted and buried her face in her pillow.

“II know what is happening. Why the Bond is gone.”

She turned to him.

“What?”

“We were wrong…we thought only three situations could cut off the Bond.”

“We know only three. What else?”

“How was I born, Lexi?”

She squinted, wiped her eyes and growled.

“I…Your mother was infected.”

“By the Master.”

“Yes? So?”

“Why would she flee? Why would she stay away from him? How did he not find her as she gave birth to me?”

“She was cut off from him,” Lexi murmured.

She shook her head.

“That can’t apply to us.”

Now Quinlan wished she would remain quiet for a moment, so he could listen.

“Quinlan? That doesn’t apply to us. We’re half-breeds. Hybrids are sterile. You never had children.”

“I never had a child with a _human_.”

“It doesn’t matter…the chromosomes they…they…”

Then she stuttered, unable to complete another sentence. Her heart knocked violently against her ribs.

“Lexi.”

She stopped mumbling and looked back at him. Her eyes were filling with tears. He had to control his own breathing as his heart felt too big for his chest. Quinlan pulled her close and waited until she quieted down. He had never wished for silence harder in his life.

“Lexi, _listen._ ”

Together, they held their breath and focused. Quinlan cursed the house with its creaking bones, the wildlife scurrying about, and that damn wind.

… _Oh._

Quinlan half choked. He held Lexi tighter and nuzzled her neck. She gasped because she had found it as well. It was tiny, less than a whisper, quieter than a mouse. A third heartbeat.


	34. A night demon

 

 

 

 

Just like that, Lexi was seventeen again. Sitting on her bed with her boyfriend. Her first love and back then as far as she was concerned, the most beautiful and kind person on the planet. His thick and long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks as they waited for the pregnancy test to give a result. They had been lucky, and the test had turned negative.

And now as an adult, she still felt the same way. Like she was in trouble. But this time there was no need for tests.

So she had been correct. The problem was on her side after all. It was there, inside her, the reason why the Bond, her _home_ , was no more.

The idea of having children had vanished the day Joshua had explained what Strigoi were. Even before that, she had never made concrete plans. It was a vague idea that did not really concern her.

“I want the Bond back,” she said and hugged his head.

“Me too.”

With a phone call, they had access to a physician. Maria had treated her for years now. Lexi could pick up the phone right now and fix this.

Or she could wait.

The idea was overwhelming, a blanket over her thoughts. She breathed slowly and deeply and as she did, the fog lifted. _Think_. There was no certainty that the Bond would ever come back. Everything in this situation was brand new. She stroked Quinlan’s smooth head and considered not calling Maria. Could she do this?

“Do you want this? To wait?” she asked.

He looked up and there was no eagerness on his face only… _shame._

“I cannot do this if you are not certain,” she said.

He remained quiet.

“Complete honesty, Quinlan, or this won’t work.”

“I do not want to influence your decision with my own desires.”

“To make a decision, I need to know what you want as well.”

“Whatever you do, I will support you.”

That was not at all a proper answer. She needed a straightforward statement.

“Quinlan, do you want it? Do you want a child?”

His eyes veered down, avoiding her gaze.

* * *

**61 A.D.**

He had won again. It was unsatisfying and dishonest. A warrior executing infants. Everyone thought he belonged in the arena, and everyone pretended his opponents had a chance at winning. They demanded Quintus put a show, and he did. Sometimes. But he grew tired of it in seconds.

Then his opponent…no…his victim would raise two fingers in defeat. That was _if_ the victim remained conscious. Then the senator or whatever pompous dignitary sat up there, would tell him to let them go or rarely, to kill them. He took no pleasure in that.

Quintus hated the applauds and cheers of the bloodthirsty crowd. He made a habit of removing his helmet and his leather armor so that they could see. They could see that he was not a man and that they were sacrificing gladiators to a being not of their world. And still they cheered. And he despised them for their depraved desires. With his heart he screamed, “ _Look at me! I am a demon! You are worshiping a demon!_ ”, and with their voices, they yelled back, “ _More!”_

Violence had to have a purpose nobler than mere entertainment. So when he struck the powerless men to incapacitate or kill them, he thought about Ancharia.

Every single one of those blows, he laid down for _her._ Because he was not ready. And every day at the gladiatorial school he learned from weaker but more experienced fighters. The moments in the arena were the price he had to pay with other’s blood and other’s lives.

They named him Candidus and made him share a cell with five others who came from all over the Roman Empire. Krug was lanky and tall and as dark as Quintus was white. He came from Africa and Quintus was thankful for his presence because he attracted almost as much curiosity. Others came from Germanic tribes, some from the East and a few from Gaul. Most were born and raised Romans. Those were the men Quintus trained with every day, with whom he shared a room, with whom he shared meals or at least pretended to. They were not kind like Ancharia had been. They were harsh, loud and brutal but Quintus quite liked them because they respected him. They treated him as equal. All slaves in that school were equals even if the Lanista, their owner, had preferences.

Months passed in their company and his only worry was that one day he would open the gate to the arena and find a familiar man standing in the sand. He hated the sand as well. It reeked of rotten blood.

 

It did not take long for Quintus to gain fame, notoriety and therefore to increase in value in the eyes of his _lanista_ , his owner.  The lanista, Aetius, once called him apart from the others and ordered him to gather his things and change rooms.

“You’ll be my first from now on. Proximo got his wooden sword today.”

So Proximo was a free man and Quintus was to become the new star fighter of Aetius’ stable of gladiators. There were few single rooms and Quintus would appreciate some privacy.

He obeyed and returned training with the others. The school was a large square building, with three wings dedicated to housing the fighters and another for the domestic slaves. Aetius lived in a residence atop a nearby hill.

The training courtyard was the center of the school and by far the liveliest space. They fought each other every day and took their meals together on a long table under a wooden sunshade.

Quintus waited for his turn to fight, sitting on a bench in the shade next to Krug. A stranger entered the court, and went straight to the lanista.

“I heard Proximo is gone now.”

“Yes, today.”

“My mistress is displeased.”

“I have others just as strong and just as manly.”

“She knows. She is curious about Candidus.”

“Oh?”

“The Night Demon of Sicily. Would he perform for her?”

“He is intact if that’s what you asked.”

“You know what I’m asking. Make it happen, or she’ll find what she wants with another lanista who doesn’t play dumb.”

“When?” asked Aetius with a sigh.

“Tomorrow.”

Both Quintus and Krug had followed that conversation. Quintus was young, merely twenty, but he knew what they were alluding to. It was not a secret that under the cover of night, wealthy women would visit famous fighters. When they came to visit his fellow gladiators, Quintus could hear them as closely as if they were in his very bedroom. Yes, he knew exactly what this was about. And suddenly, he was displeased at the prospect of being turned into a prostitute. Maybe it was time to leave the school, and find experience elsewhere.

“Are you alright, Candidus?” asked Krug.

“Of course.”

They fought until the sun went down and until the men glistened with sweat, except for Quintus. Aetius once more called Quitnus apart and he followed him with reluctance.

“Have you ever been married?” he asked.

“No.”

“No? But you are of age! You should already have been married at least once.”

Quintus had no answer to this and was not in the mood to offer justifications.

“Have you been with women outside of marriage?”

“No.”

“Oh Gods, why are you toying with me like this!”

Aetius raised his fists to the twilight sky then almost imploring, stared at Quintus.

“Have you tried?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

He glared. In truth, since he had learned how to speak and behave like more than an animal, he had observed young women from afar and without much interest. Most of his thoughts went either to Ancharia or to the Master. Ancharia had given him a voice, a civilized mien, a goal but also discipline of mind and body. She had told him to get ready to fight the Master and taking a wife had never factored into it.

“The Gods have a strange sense of humor. They send me the best fighter money can buy and make him a clueless virgin.”

Quintus rattled as he was proud and did not appreciate being called “clueless.”

“Oh no! You do not make those sounds with me! If lady Cecilia comes tomorrow you will abstain or I will have your tongue.”

Mockingly, Quintus bowed.

“If the lady complains you were not up to the task, I will relieve you of the useless organ between your legs.”

Quintus walked away, bored by those empty threats. Aetius scoffed at being disrespected thusly but did not call him back.

“So you’re a virgin, huh?” asked Krug.

Quintus drank from his opaque bottle. If they suspected what it contained, the other gladiators had never remarked upon it. Since he had arrived in this school, Quintus had never been thirsty.

“How is that even possible?” asked Sammus, a large man from Gaul with bright green eyes.

“Not everyone is a whore like you!” screamed another man from the end of the table.

“How could I turn any other way with your mother as my teacher!” screamed Sammus back.

The men exploded with laughter.

“I reckon you don’t have to worry much. Lady Cecilia is very vocal about what she likes and dislikes. She will tell you what to do,” said Sammus.

“I’m thankful for the advice, but it’s not necessary. I am not interested in bedding her.”

The men looked at each other then back at Quintus.

“We already had this talk, Candidus. We are slaves. You don’t get to make such decisions until after you are free.”

“These considerations do not apply to me.”

“You are a very strange man,” said Krug.

He was not a man, but he liked to pretend sometimes. Like he pretended that the bottle he held was filled with wine and not with the blood of Aetius’ domestic slaves.

 

That night alone in his new room he pondered whether leaving because he did not want to share his bed with a woman made him a coward. The other men were not scared of this. They even enjoyed the task. Had he learned everything he could learn from this school? He doubted it. There were weapons he had yet to use at all. Quintus also detested the idea of being clueless about any matter. He mastered anything he put his mind to and much of his pride stemmed from that fact. Footsteps sounded in the corridor preceded by Aetius’s irritating perfume.

The door unlocked and opened.

“This is the albino. Call when it’s done.”

“This is highly unusual.”

“I already paid your master.”

“I know. And I already said I was looking forward to it. I just remarked on the strangeness of the situation.”

“I don’t pay for you to remark things.”

Aetius pushed the woman inside the room then closed the door behind her.

“By Venus, isn’t he impatient!”

Quintus stood frozen. She wore a white toga, and her hair was dark and thick. Glossy even under the dim light of the lamp she held. Her eyes were black and shiny, like obsidians. She detailed his appearance with as much curiosity.

“I was told I needed to teach you a few things.”

“I am not interested,” he lied.

Now that a woman was here for this very purpose, he was intrigued. Humans made such a fuss about sex that he wanted to know why. It certainly helped that this woman had not paid to be here.

“I will make you interested.”

He grinned at her confidence. Because he found it amusing and because he wanted to see how she’d react to his teeth. She did not care and walked to the small table to put down the lamp. Then she stood, just arm length from him. She was small but then again, most women were.

“Sit down,” she ordered.

“I don’t take orders,” he said and sat down on his bed.

“Yes, I can tell.”

She leaned down and her face approached him so he leaned back to avoid it.

“You don’t like to kiss?”

“I don’t know. I never tried.”

“Venus is crying for you.”

She leaned down again but this time he did not avoid her. They were almost touching when she stopped.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

He did. He could smell every little thing on her. Soap, linen, fragrant oils in her hair and her skin, and the bouquet of scents of her body. This included blood but he was not thirsty. He did not move when her lips took his.

“That’s not a kiss. If you stay still like a statue, it doesn’t count.”

He imitated her, gesture for gesture and she quickly nodded in approval.

“You learn quickly, that’s good.”

Merely being good was not enough for Quintus. He wanted to be excellent, to be the _best_. He kissed her and led. Then he pulled her closer and rested his hand on her nape. Her heart was beating quicker, and he did not let that distract him.

“Your tongue is very strange.”

Quintus tried not to be ashamed and failed. He pulled away from her.

“It disgusts you.”

“No, it simply surprised me.”

He could not tell whether she was truthful and maybe biased by his own views, settled to think she had lied. She took a step back.

“You should remove your tunic,” she said.

“And you shall keep your own?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I don’t care either way.”

Quintus was not particularly invested in the question, but he was curious about what the fabric hid. She decided to continue naked and deposited her tunic on the unique stool. Her skin was pale and she appeared soft. Her shoulders were narrow but her hips wide. Only now did he notice the silver adorning her ankle.

“Remove that as well.”

“Well, now I am more naked than I have ever been.”

She shoved the jewelry inside her folded tunic then stared at him and made a gesture with both her hands and he knew it meant “your turn.”

He imitated her and for the next hour when she pulled away in surprise at his growls or his purrs and repeated that she did not mind, he still did not believe her. And if she was saying the truth, a glimpse inside his mind would have made her recoil in fear. As things progressed he could not move as she wished without hurting her and he had to fight that desire. Then soon the instinct to grab her neck with his stinger became almost too much to bear and he slapped a hand on his mouth to keep it shut.

 

When he tensed like a rope, she did the worst thing she could possibly do. Without warning, she stood, took her tunic off the table and ran to the door. Flabbergasted, Quintus only understood what she meant to do when she locked his door from the outside. He roared in frustration and felt the urge to tear the door down. No. He _would_ tear the door down and drag her back to the bed and make her finish what she had started.

“Your master told me that if you spilled tonight, he would have me lashed.”

His rage deflated. He was not surprised that the lanista would do this. It was smart really. That he should crave a woman before lady Cecilia arrived. But it was also stupid. Because he did not care for Cecilia at this moment, he wanted this woman whose name he did not know. But that she would suffer for his disobedience, that too deflated him.

“What will you do if I come back inside to dress?”

“Nothing,” he said and reached for his own tunic.

The images of her screams of pain as the lash cracked the air had killed his lust. She unlocked the door, and he breathed through his mouth so the scent of her body would not frustrate him further.

“What is your name?” he asked as a distraction.

She laughed then gave him another kiss. But it did not count because he strived not to move.

“I am no one, just a daughter of Venus. And you are no one, just a night demon.”

Then she left and took the dim light of the lamp with her.

 

The lanista smirked at Quintus from the other side of the court. Quintus ignored him. He let nothing show on his face that he had not slept because he craved the touch of a slave. A woman with no name. The others still tossed advice his way. He listened with half a mind.

“If you slap their rear just a little it drives them wild. Trust me,” said Sammus.

“They’re women, not mules. Maybe those two are harder to distinguish where you come from,” said a Roman gladiator named Cato.

“Gaul has the most beautiful women in the world! Tall and fair and strong! Not the weasels you have here.”

“Tall, fair and strong? I have seen plenty of mules that fit that description.”

“Eat your bread and shut up, you tasteless oaf.”

“Go mate with weasels!”

At this point, Quintus muted out their chatter and ducked out of the way when a piece of bread flew across the table.

 

When Quintus returned to his bedroom after dinner, the bedsheets were new and the floors freshly cleaned. He considered those changes with disgust then when his door locked behind him, with frank irritation. As the steps of the lanista disappeared down the corridor, Quintus pulled the door open. The metal of the lock twisted and broke.

The sky was a deep blue and a ribbon of stars gleamed across it. Without a doubt, the night would be agreeable enough for a walk outside the school grounds. Quintus climbed over the gate then walked down a dirt path lined with low bushes. A bird emitted a trill, and the breeze cleared away the disagreeable scents of humans living in close quarters. He took great pleasure in those. His pleasure was sweetened by imagining the embarrassment his lanista would suffer when guiding lady Cecilia to his room only to find it deserted. He chuckled to himself.

 

An hour later, the rapid hammering of a galloping horse broke the peaceful night. Aetius had surely already suffered his humiliation. Suddenly feeling generous, Quintus planned on following the rider back without trouble. No doubt would he lose his private bedroom and perhaps would he be kept hungry for a few days. But those were mild inconveniences. He could slip out at night and hunt game to alleviate his thirst.

“You!” screamed the rider.

Quintus suspended his step mid-air then turned around. This was not the voice of Aetius or of his guards. This was the voice of a woman. She mounted the horse like a man and Quintus stared in disbelief. With her left hand she kept a firm and experienced grasp on the reigns and in her right hand she held a torch. But the most incredible part of her person was the glavius on her belt. She jumped off the horse, and Quintus was convinced she would cut herself with the sword. But she didn’t. She secured the torch in the sandy ground with a single stabbing gesture. Then, letting out a raging howl, she attempted to skewer him. With ease, Quintus avoided the attack. She was tall and thin but with hard muscles he had never seen on a woman. Her long dark hair was tied on her nape. It looked like she had done it in a hurry and without much care. Her tunic was too immodest to have been meant for a woman. It stopped slightly above her knees

“You think you can run away the night I rent you?”

Quintus avoided several more attacks and observed as he did. Though her words sounded full of indignation and anger, her face displayed joy every time he avoided her sword.

“I’m not a piece of meat you can rent.”

“That’s exactly what you are, _slave_.”

The road was empty except for them, and the nearest settlement was many paces away. Too far for its lights to reach them.

“I could kill you right here and walk away. No one would ever know about it,” he said.

She bit her lower lip.

“I’d like to see you try, slave.”

Quintus would not try. The idea of killing a woman gratuitously was repugnant, however annoying she was. Though, he could scare some humility into her.

Dust rose in his wake when he ran at her, twisted her arm behind her back and took the weapon from her hand. Quintus sent it flying in the wilderness and the sound of its landing made her gasp. It had been very far. She struggled, her feet attempting to crush his. She tossed her head back in an attempt to break his nose. Throughout, she smiled. She was not scared and he found that not only surprising but enraging. Had she no sense at all? Quintus tripped her, and she fell heavily on her back. Crouching above her chest, he held onto her arms. She laughed and his vexation increased.

“Are we to proceed as planned?” she asked.

Quintus opened his mouth wide and his stinger bloomed. He wanted her to see it in all its horror. Her mocking grin vanished and her body tensed under his grasp. With the twin claws, he traced the curve of her jaw and neck. She was still and he concluded that this was enough for her to leave him be. And to not come back. He swallowed the stinger.

“What sort of a man are you?” she asked and her tone was as commanding as before.

“I am not a man.”

He stood and took a step away from her. The woman jumped to her feet and her gaze traveled over his entire person.

“You certainly look like a man.”

She approached him to take a better look.

“And you most definitely act like one.”

“Do I?”

She snorted loudly.

“Like all men, you act like my brandishing a weapon somehow makes you lesser.”

This had not been his problem at all.

“The first person who ever put a sword in my hand was a woman, so you are mistaken.”

He turned away and began his walk back to the gladiatorial school. The thuds of hooves on sand quickly followed.

“Then what is your issue with me?”

“I’m not a slave.”

“Are you deluded? You are one. You are even branded as a criminal.”

He ignored the jab and walked on. Riding her horse, she overtook him and blocked his path.

“Why are you going back? If I tell your master what has transpired here, you will be crucified.”

The men might attempt to do so, but that was not something that worried him. Though it appeared to worry her which made him curious.

“Will you tell him?”

She shook her head then dismounted her horse again.

“Will you hurt me with the snake hiding in your throat?”

“No.”

He stopped walking and let her approach. She was not mocking anymore and he much preferred that.

“You managed to escape, why are you going back?”

“I just wanted to enjoy the beauty of the night, and you spoiled that enjoyment.”

“Why tonight when you knew I was to meet you?”

“To shame Aetius and cast your displeasure upon him.”

She smiled again, softly this time.

“I thought the others had told you tales about me and that you had fled at the prospect of sharing your bed with such a woman.”

“If those tales bring you shame, why do you comport yourself like this?”

“They do not bring me shame!”

For a moment Quintus expected her to strike him with the torch. This time, he was the one sneering and he walked around her and her horse. She made a clicking sound and the animal followed her.

“Are you avoiding me because you are deformed under your tunic and unable to lay with a woman?”

Quintus rolled his eyes.

“There is much speculation among women about what you hide under your leather skirts.”

“Let them speculate.”

“Some say you are probably as fast in bed as you are in combat and money would be wasted in attempting to lie with you.”

“Why were you worried about the snake I hide in my throat when you speak with the tongue of a viper?”

She laughed loudly and trotted to catch up and walk beside him.

“Perhaps you simply prefer other men and the feminine figure stirs nothing in you.”

“No.”

“Then perhaps _my_ figure is the issue.”

“I knew nothing of your likeness before you found me here.”

“And does it displease you now?”

Quintus turned to her and took his time to look. Her face was plain save for large eyes adorned with long and thick eyelashes. The tunic was too ample to make a detailed assessment but Quintus did not much care.

“If I tell you what you want to hear, will you leave me be?”

“Perhaps.”

“You are acceptable.”

She scoffed and once more blocked his path.

“ _Acceptable_?”

Dropping the torch, she unhooked the fastening of her tunic, and it fell limply around her ankles.

“And now?”

Shocked by her behavior he stood dumbfounded, and stared. She was maybe a little more than merely acceptable. He had no idea what to say. She stepped out of her clothes. He did remember to close his eyes when she stretched up to kiss him. Her arms, core, and buttocks were firmer than those of the woman with no name, but he enjoyed them as well. It was different because he knew what was to come and he was still frustrated from the previous night.

“Do not pay Aetius,” he said.

“Why not?”

“If you say you will pay him for this then I will walk away.”

“So you are willing to give me what I desire only if I keep my money?”

“Yes.”

“This will not be a problem.”

Paces from the road spread the neat rows of a vineyard surrounded by a low stone wall. They walked among the vines heavy with purple grapes. She picked one and popped it in her mouth and when she kissed him again, she tasted tart from the fruit. The horse stayed back near the road where they had left the torch. She tossed her tunic over a wall still warm from a day of sunlight and leaned against it. They kissed like this, her body between him and the stone. And the other gladiators had been right, she knew what she wanted and since Quintus was still inexperienced, he listened. When she screamed and writhed against him, it sounded almost like singing.

But his throat contracted and his stinger slid out so he clenched his teeth. His pleasure was spoiled by having to maintain such control over his every gestures.

“No!” she said when his own breathing turned hoarse and a low rumble rose from his chest.

She held onto his hips and forced him out of her. Things could not have been worse even if all these women had conspired to drive him to the edge of insanity.

“My husband is very near-sighted but he will hear just fine if the servants comment how pale and clear-eyed the child I birth appears to be.”

At this moment, Quintus did not much care. Discipline was almost gone from his mind. He kissed her again and found her hands. It was not as satisfying as he had hoped. But now he understood what the fuss was about. Part of him wished he had stayed ignorant.

She walked away and picked up large leaves to clean herself as well as a handful of plump grapes. Quintus leaned on the wall and gathered the pieces of his mind.

“I’m not a man, so I could not father a child.”

Just like marriage, he had given little thought to this idea. What would be the point? He was to die with the Master.

“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. Have you been married and failed to produce an heir?”

“I have never been married.”

“Then how would you even know!”

She laughed and shook her head.

“I didn’t say that to satisfy my desires at your expense,” said Quintus a little defensively.

“I do not tolerate men satisfying themselves at my expense and if you had displeased me that way, you would know.”

What a strange woman. Quintus was a slave who did not know his place and she was a woman who did not know her place. He smiled.

“Will you come back?” he asked.

“It will be difficult if I cannot pay your lanista.”

“I might walk here again after the games in ten days.”

“Oh, in that case, I might start strolling through here myself.”

 

Little consequence came from his escape and he suspected Lady Cecilia had intervened in his favor. They met again. Sometimes weekly sometimes less often. Unlike the first night, they exchanged very few words during those encounters and most of what Quintus knew of her came from rumors spoken by his fellow gladiators.

After six months, she seemingly vanished. Quintus was not worried. He imagined she had witnessed the exploits of another gladiator and taken fancy after him. Other women had asked after Quintus and just like he had before, he had taken this as a signal that it was time for a nightly stroll. Aetius quickly learned that forcing him into such situations was a pointless endeavor.

 

“It is not I who wants this outcome, your own kind demands it.”

The man had asked for mercy. Quintus killed him without pleasure and without malice. As he walked back to the relief of the shade, the senator met him and stared at his white blood with more than mere curiosity: with _recognition_.

 

That day he acquired three things: his freedom, a last name and the proposal of an alliance by the Ancients. The senator was merely a pet for the Ancients. Meeting them was a jarring experience. Much like statues, they stood with genderless bodies which had once been human. When they spoke, he heard them not with his ears but with his mind. He hated that. Their voices were intrusive and grating. It felt _wrong_. But they shared his agenda so he put up with them. He joined the army under their direction. For him to learn more than just fighting, but also sharpen his tactical skills.

 

Quintus came back to Rome two years later on his way to Northern Africa where he would wage another war. He walked the busy streets and it turned more pleasant than anticipated. Perhaps it was because of the clouds, shielding him from the sun, or perhaps it was because he craved beauty after the chaos of battles. Quintus ventured in the markets and took in the smells of fresh foods, fabrics and cosmetics. There was a stand with caged animals, exotic and colorful. This he passed quickly because it reminded him of the years he had spent like those creatures.

A familiar voice caught his attention. That of a woman, loud and commanding. Lady Cecilia was there, chatting with another noblewoman. She would be embarrassed to see Quintus, so he decided to turn around which was the moment she chose to call.

“Cassius! Come here!”

“Mother! Look at that slave!”

Quintus hid behind a long swat of silky fabric and stared. Lady Cecilia held her hand back and a small arm reached for it. Very small. Perhaps three years old or less. _Could it be?_

But he could not see the child properly from his hiding place. Quintus was tempted to get closer. Would he see a young child with skin too fair for a Roman? Maybe with hint of lines running on his face?

Lady Cecilia bent down, picked up the child and Quintus held his breath.

It was a normal little boy. His face resembled Cecilia’s except for bright green eyes.

Quintus waited until she left with the child laughing and pointing. He wondered what he had been thinking. What if it had been his child? There would be no place in Quintus’s life for him.

The market had lost its appeal and he returned to Sertorius’ house. Yes, surely it was for the best that this was not his child. But that day and often until he met Tasa and Sura, he thought about what he would have done if Cassius had been his.

* * *

“Quinlan, do you want it? Do you want a child?”

Quinlan could not look at her face. He was ashamed. She didn't ask the right questions. What she should have asked was: “ _Do you deserve this? Are you worthy?”_

Because he knew what he wanted. He had known ever since Cassius’ appearance had filled him with disappointment instead of relief.

She cupped his face and gently made him look up. Soothing, her fingers stroked his cheeks. Quinlan nodded.


End file.
